


I Wanna Feel You From The Inside

by asumiko



Series: Closer [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Anxiety Disorder, Body Dysmorphic Disorder, Coming of Age, Demisexual James Potter, Demisexuality, Dom/sub Undertones, F/F, F/M, Families of Choice, Kink Discovery, M/M, Masochism, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Obsession, Other, Panic Attacks, Pining, Platonic Sex, Queer Themes, Queerplatonic Relationships, Regulus Black Needs a Hug, Remus Lupin Needs a Hug, Remus Lupin’s Hands, Self-Esteem Issues, Sirius Black Needs a Hug, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Teacher-Student Relationship, Walburga Black's A+ Parenting, atypical friendship between James and Sirius, bildungsroman, prongsfoot - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:28:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 38,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29332332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asumiko/pseuds/asumiko
Summary: The sexual and emotional development of Sirius Black on a journey to re-appropriate his body – only to then donate it to one Remus Lupin.Alternatively:During Sirius’s final year at Hogwarts, Remus Lupin becomes the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. Instead of fighting the forces of evil, our protagonist must go on a quest to find himself and battle against his spiralling obsession with a man he knows increasingly little about.
Relationships: Regulus Black & Sirius Black, Sirius Black & James Potter, Sirius Black & Marlene McKinnon, Sirius Black/James Potter, Sirius Black/Marlene McKinnon, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Series: Closer [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2154501
Comments: 79
Kudos: 73





	1. Help Me Get Away From Myself

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Marlene and Sirius have History or: The Word is Taboo](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18781168) by [LucyInTheSkye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucyInTheSkye/pseuds/LucyInTheSkye). 
  * Inspired by [Anthem for Doomed Youth](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19900360) by [LucyInTheSkye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucyInTheSkye/pseuds/LucyInTheSkye). 



> This is the first part of my Closer series which is set during Sirius's last year at Hogwarts. It is very much a coming of age story, not a getting together one. WolfStar is essentially what drives the character development, if you will. 
> 
> I will be posting at least once a week as I edit the first story arc - comments are much appreciated throughout this process. 
> 
> Please note the below warnings before proceeding:
> 
> The story is labelled explicit for sexual content and mature themes.  
> The story will have frequent depictions of mental health issues including anxiety and panic disorders, PTSD due to parental abuse, descriptions of physical abuse, body dysmorphic disorder (including mild self-harm related to skin picking), and disassociation.  
> The story will NOT depict any eating disorders, suicidal ideation, or death in any form.  
> The story depicts underage characters engaging in sexual acts that may be deemed precocious.  
> The story will NOT depict any sexual relations between adults and minors/teachers and students.
> 
> If you would like any warnings to be added, please leave a comment below. 
> 
> Disclaimers:  
> This is a work of fanfiction and all borrowed characters belong to the Harry Potter franchise.  
> The chapter titles come from the song Closer by Nine Inch Nails.  
> The dynamic between Sirius and Marlene is inspired by LucyInTheSkye's characterisation. Please check out their stories starting with Anthem for Doomed Youth or their wonderful WolfStar oneshots.
> 
> P.S. I'm afraid Remus is taller (unlike in canon) because I have a thing for David Thewlis.

_Dear Remus,_

_I hope you are having a lucid day given that I can no longer hold back._

_Lying about my feelings is a farce you never let me play out at Hogwarts, so I do not see why we should allow it now._

_London has changed me in all the ways that do not seem to matter. I want to tell you about everything I think I’ve understood and all the things I fear I haven’t. I have read books, like you told me. I have heard songs, poems, and confessions from people I am now proud to call friends. I did it for myself, but always in the hope that this would bring me closer to you, closer to where you wanted me to be._

_In these three years I have grown and, with me, my greed – except I have learnt to embrace it. I want love. Love to feel and love to give and love to submerge myself in. I want life to consist of loving as many people as possible, in as many ways as possible. Abundantly, extravagantly, filthily. I want a riotous excess of it permanently flooding my synapses for as long as I can feel it. But, most importantly, I need your love now that you and I still exist and I have been given the mathematically unlikely chance to love you in the present._

_Remus, you must take this at face value: No matter what has happened, no matter what will happen, we have co-existed for precious moments of time and I love you. We have ended up companions in this mystical plane of existence and it is not ephemeral – we are trapped here forever, and I remain here hoping that you do not wish to escape._

_And yet, despite eternity, I am of two minds and have selfishly run out of patience. You know where to find me; please come as you are. I am not trying to diminish the hardships you have faced, and I am certainly not a healing salve. But we agreed that we would trust our instincts with each other, and my instincts tell me that we are better entwined than apart._

_Hurry the fuck up,_

_Your Sirius_

®®®

Four Years Earlier

“Padfoot, hurry up! We’re going to be late for another class and it’s our first day back,” urged Peter, walking backwards down the winding school corridors.

Sirius had been delayed by a brazen sixth-year Ravenclaw who, under the guise of a Quidditch enquiry, had managed to drag his hand under her bra in broad daylight. People like this made him uncomfortable, but that’s what you got after spending years actively advertising your promiscuity. At Peter’s call, after a quick tweak to her nipple that made her jump in shock, he ran to catch up with his friends.

“Molesting innocents on our way to class again, Padfoot?” asked James grinning, wrapping an arm around his best friend as they kept traversing the school maze.

“Difficult to say which party was getting molested, really. Do either of you know anything about our new professor?” asked Sirius, casually putting his hand in James’s back pocket. “Hey Frank, you heard anything?”

Frank Longbottom could be counted on to have access to any grapevine. Their friend and roommate slowed his pace to walk alongside the group. “About the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor? Yeah, heard he’s real young, would’ve graduated the year before we started. Apparently, his face is really scary - looks like he got mauled by an animal.”

“You shirt-lifters at it again this year, Gryffindors?” taunted Lucius Malfoy, appearing beside them with Sirius’s cousin on his arm. To everyone’s dismay, Gryffindors and Slytherins had been sharing DADA lessons ever since first year.

“Well, if I had to choose between fucking you or Cissy, you bet I would go for you, Malfoy,” retorted Sirius, going for unaffected. He could feel James’s touch getting firmer, trying to soothe him.

With a polite sneer, the Slytherin stalked ahead with an aloof Narcissa in tow.

“Wow, he can’t even reply to that because his family is as inbred as yours,” pointed out James, laughing.

“Longbottom, what were you saying about the new teacher?” prompted Sirius, trying to forget about the taunt. He knew Malfoy was just jealous because he’d fucked his ex-girlfriend in the arse last weekend.

“As I was saying, I overheard some Hufflepuffs talk about him after first period, said he’s got scars all over his face and is really harsh with homework. And he’s Welsh,” finished relaying Frank, as they approached the final corridor.

“Welsh! Sacré bleu, that won’t do at all,” joked Sirius in a posh accent, stepping into the classroom.

They hadn’t calculated for the Welshman to already be at his desk.

“Are you particularly keen on English Imperialism, Mr…?” trailed off a deep, lilting voice.

It took the boy’s vision a moment to zoom out of piercing amber eyes. “Sirius Black, Sir. And no Sir, some of my best friends are Welsh, nothing wrong with sheep-lovers” he joked distastefully, trying not to stare at his very first Love at First Sight.

The professor seemed to smile despite himself. “Ah, if you’re so well-versed in the topic and have access to primary sources, perhaps you could write a three-page essay on the magical origins of that stereotype. And share with the class your top findings next week, of course.” The man stood with his palms resting wide on the desk behind him, slow smirk dancing across his lips. Hot.

“Nice one, Pads,” chimed in Peter, “first day of final year and you’ve already got extra homework assignments.” The others strategically left him behind to go to their usual seats at the back of the class.

“Very well,” said a grinning Sirius, “so long as you don’t give me detention if my findings are too explicit, Professor…?” he mimicked, taking a step closer to the intimidatingly taller man.

“Professor Remus Lupin. And you’re right, let’s all spare ourselves the experience. Please take a seat, Mr. Black, you’ve gotten enough attention for one day,” he stated, making it clear he had often encountered characters such as Sirius. Dismissively, he turned to start writing something on the board.

Intrigued, Sirius calmly made his way to the seat next to his best friend. “Hey, did that feel like flirting to you too?” he whispered.

With a disbelieving look, James elbowed him in the stomach. “You are unhinged. You’ve fucked half the school, now you want a go at the teachers?”

“Haven’t managed to fuck you yet, have I?” murmured Sirius, followed by a teasing wink.

“Not for lack of trying, you slut. Merlin, Pads, he’s old,” whispered James, looking back at their teacher who was waiting for the very last student to settle at their desk.

“If Frank is right, he can’t be older than twenty-seven. Twenty-seven sounds hot,” he replied dreamily, fixating his gaze on the tweed-clad professor. James could only roll his eyes.

Without introducing himself further, Professor Lupin proceeded to conduct the most decent DADA lesson they’d probably ever received. At first, everyone stared intently as teenagers are wont to do - because he was new and because his scars were indeed prominent. Although they neither added to nor detracted from the _feel_ of him, thought Sirius. He had a way of moving that was impossibly charming and unlike anyone he’d ever met. For the first time in his school career, he didn’t utter a word throughout class. He was so mesmerised that James started glancing at him incredulously. Even Remus seemed to have noticed his intense gaze but did not look at all bothered by it. As if Sirius were just a fly on the wall.

He kind of liked it.

By the time the lesson ended, he certainly hadn’t learnt anything about the Dark Arts but marked the hour as time well-spent. He now had a full repertoire of images of Lupin’s hands moving through the air, of how his long legs slotted elegantly against each other, and of how his ill-fitting clothes hung across his lanky body. He’d never paid this much attention to another person before, and it was a relief to discover he was capable of such focus.

In a daze, he packed up his belongings and mindlessly followed James to the Great Hall, surreptitiously glancing back at the new teacher who paid him no mind. He suddenly realised that Professor Lupin hadn’t been at the opening assembly. Usually, new staff members got introduced by Dumbledore during the Sorting Hat Ceremony. Illness? Shyness? He hadn’t seemed shy, however; he’d seemed like he knew exactly what he was about. Sirius wished he knew what he himself was about.

“Earth to Pads? Are you done fantasising yet?” prodded James, waving a hand in front of his face.

“Sorry Prongs, did you say something?” recovered Sirius, shifting his attention.

“Just said that Mr Lupin is pretty cool. Finally someone who knows what they’re talking about. We’re in our final year and I’d like to actually be able to, you know, _defend_ myself against the bloody Dark Arts.”

“Yeah, our Defence teachers haven’t been great,” re-joined Peter, who had been following them as usual. “And I’ve never managed to get a good grade in it.”

“Don’t worry, Pete," offered James, "just because you don’t get good grades, doesn’t mean you’re not good at something. We all managed to become animagi and yet your Transfiguration grades are shite."

“You think?” asked the smaller boy, anxiety temporarily assuaged.

“Alright, I’ll see you guys later,” announced Sirius abruptly, heading towards the upper floors.

“But it’s lunch time!” exclaimed Peter, confused.

“Sorry Pete, I arranged to meet up with Marlene, gonna go eat her for lunch,” he threw back.

Checking no one was around, he swiftly made his way to their usual supply closet. Sirius and Marlene had been fucking around since third year and it hadn’t occurred to them to stop since. It didn’t hurt that she was the hottest girl in their year and one of the best people he knew.

When he stepped in and shut the door behind him, it was pitch black. He felt the unmistakeable pressure of two perky tits pushed up against his chest and long fingers combing into his hair.

“Hey, Black. How was your summer?” asked Marlene, in that raspy voice that made his knees weak.

“Not too boring. I missed you, though,” he said, wrapping his arms around her tight waist and inhaling deep into her neck.

“Missed my holes, maybe,” she said, teasingly.

“Those too,” he consented, sliding his hands down to grab her arse so as to spread two of those holes. She wasn’t wearing any underwear. “But we’re friends as well, aren’t we?” he protested, now hugging her more than anything. He couldn’t believe he’d said something so vulnerable, but being around only the Potters for the summer had lowered his guard.

“Meh, you’re alright,” she shrugged, but couldn’t help smiling and kissing his cheek. They were exactly the same height and there was something pretty satisfying about that.

“How’s your ‘Dorcas Campaign’ going?” he asked, keeping one hand on her arse to grope and the other sliding deep between her legs.

“Fuck, I have missed you too. And not too well - after six years I still haven’t figured out if she’s straight or not. Ah yes, right there,” she gasped when he scratched her favourite spot.

“You’ll get there,” he murmured, moving his free hand to cup the back of her head and kiss her.

After a few minutes of deep making out, Marlene grabbed his throat to slightly push him away, a line of spit connecting them still. “Will you fuck me, Sirius? To inaugurate our final year? Just slide right in. Spin me around, lift my skirt, and fuck right in.”

Without hesitation, he grasped her body and pushed her to rest against the door, making quick work of his trousers which fell in a heap at his feet. He also wasn’t wearing any underwear.

“How are you so fucking hot?” he asked rhetorically, panting lightly as he felt her up in the dark. “Next time, I’m sneaking into your bed. Just gonna turn up one night, slide the curtains closed, and shove my cock into one of your holes. You’d wake up with me inside you, begging me to fuck you harder. You like being easy, don’t you?” As he said this, he quickly ripped a condom open and slid it over himself. As he was talking, he felt her gushing as he prodded at her entrance. After a few moments of rubbing himself back and forth in between her thighs, he slowly fucked into her body.

“Ah fuck yes. C’mon Sirius, my pussy’s yours to use today,” she moaned, remembering why she liked him so much. He was always up for playing her dirty games and he never made her feel bad about any of it. She felt that, unlike most men, Sirius always respected her all the way through despite her sexual preferences.

He roughly grabbed her chest over her flimsy shirt, his other hand harshly gripping her arse, keeping it spread. Exactly as she preferred, he started fucking into her hard and fast. “You’re a pretty little slut,” he whispered softly, “letting me fuck you like this, my cock in your tight fucking cunt. You love it, don’t you? You love how good you’re making me feel, letting me get off inside of you?

She was biting her fist, struggling not to moan and scream at him hitting her cervix on every thrust. It hurt but it felt so good. Her other hand was roughly rubbing her clit, until she unexpectedly shuddered and came as Sirius kept fucking her against the door.

“You feel so good, coming all over my cock. So fucking hot, Marlene, keep touching yourself, c’mon, I know you like it when it hurts.”

Her face was smashed against the hard wood and saliva was pouring from the corners of her mouth. Another perk of doing it in the dark was that she could completely let go of all inhibitions and get Sirius to do exactly as she wanted.

“You’re going to make me come inside your tight hole, Marlene. Just stand there and let me have at it,” he snarled, spanking her hard once, orgasm building. Just like she fucking liked it.

At this point, her hand was doing very little to muffle her moans and she could feel her hole squeezing around him as she made both of them come hard.

Even after the strongest waves had subsided, Sirius kept fucking in and out of her, knowing she loved being overstimulated. Batting her hand away, he started rubbing her clit with the intention of making her come again.

“So good Marlene, you’re such a good fuck. Made me come so hard inside you. And you’d let me do it anytime, wouldn’t you? I could just slam you up against any desk and fuck right into you from behind, in front of everyone? Show everyone how fucking easy you are?” With a pained moan, his words made her come a third time as she imagined letting Sirius take her publicly, showing off how useful her body could be.

As both of their breaths slowed down, Sirius cast the usual cleaning spells and sweetly readjusted her clothes as well as he could in the dark. Marlene was still shaking from the aftershocks, but after a few minutes managed to stand up straight.

“I feel like I really outdid myself this time, didn’t I?” he remarked, a giggle in his voice.

“Glad you haven’t forgotten what I’m into. I’m a bit fucked up, aren’t I?” she asked hesitantly, always feeling a bit embarrassed coming down from the high of having her friend indulge her.

“Nah, you’re alright. I think it’s hot. I think you’re hot,” he added, gently petting her hair.

“Ha, thanks,” she said, smiling back shyly in the dark. They were standing intimately close, but it just felt comfortable.

“Can I ask you a question, though?” he ventured.

She was afraid he was finally going to ask what had given her such perverted kinks, but he knew better than to pry.

“Since you’re in love with Dorcas, do you fantasise about her fucking you like that?” He’d wondered about it; Dorcas seemed so utterly harmless, a bit of a stickler for the rules. The previous year, Marlene had requested a very specific type of dirty talk from him, and although he understood it intellectually enough to perform it, her desires fundamentally eluded him.

The question took her by surprise, but she was happy to answer. “Hmm, not really. I still like the idea of her taking me anywhere and anyway she wants, but the power dynamic is completely different when you’re both the same gender, you know? At least for me, it kind of changes what I want from her. Also, just because I’m usually submissive with you, doesn’t mean I would want to be submissive with her. I mostly fantasise about taking care of her and making her come ten times in a row,” she finished, smiling wistfully at the thought.

As they said goodbye to head to class, Sirius couldn’t stop thinking about their conversation. Could it be that his dominance was purely circumstantial, a response to what his partners wanted? Could there be someone out there for which he’d want to submit, a want independent from how that someone needed him to be? Just as sharp amber eyes started crawling into his vision, he saw Professor Lupin speaking to Madam Pomfrey through the infirmary door. He seamlessly slowed his pace to eavesdrop.

“Thank you, Poppy. I’ve always had reservations about trying these potions, but after our chat I’m optimistic they might help,” the man said in his deep baritone, downing a small purple phial. Sirius faltered at the bob of Adam’s apple up the long throat.

“Wish you’d taken them when you were a student, Remus. Well, better late than never! If you come by every day for the first month, I can keep an eye on how you’re reacting. If it works, I’ll give you your own stash,” she explained, patting him kindly on the back.

As Sirius passed by the kitchens before class to nick a quick snack, he wondered what that potion was for. Sex with Marlene always helped him get out of his head and focus on someone else for a bit, but he’d never truly been interested in another beyond getting off unless they were James.

He spent the rest of the day contemplating whether different people could make different desires blossom within you, and how it might be time to plant some new seeds.

®®®

Sirius was once again sitting in class boring holes into Remus’s head. He knew he was using his professor as a thought experiment rather than viewing him as a complex human being, but all he’d been thinking about lately was whether he’d been doing sex wrong. And about Mr Lupin’s large hands running through his hair.

Up until the age of fourteen, he’d been unaware of his body as being something that belonged to him. He’d lived on the subconscious assumption that he _was_ his body (which he may or may not later come back to), and that his parents owned him through it. All their torture blurred into one inferno of shame, and it had never occurred to him that _they had no right._

Then, one day, he encountered a book. On a sunny afternoon in Muggle London, he happened to walk by a bookshop called _Gay’s The Word_. There was some kind of signing event going on and a colourful person outside was giving out sample copies. Without thinking much about it, he grabbed one and headed to the nearby park to flick through it.

At that age, his vocabulary didn’t include words like ‘bodily autonomy’, ‘queer re-appropriation’, or even ‘alternative lifestyles’. He just gleaned what he could from the foreign words but that had been enough. An almost visual separation manifested itself between his body and mind, and for the first time in his short life he felt in control. He laid back into the grass, looked up at the blue, and decided that this vessel was his. He was going to mark it as _Property of Sirius Black_ and that’s where his obsession with queer counter-culture began.

It was difficult given he lived mostly between Hogwarts and his holding cell (and later at the Potters'), but he managed to make a few trips over the years to the bookshop and befriend the staff there. They were only too eager to direct him towards the good stuff.

After a couple of years, he started exploring other bookshops and got a friendly Muggle he met in a park to show him how to use the internet. He managed to procure himself a phone which he could use at the Potters'. He learnt about piercings, tattoos, and more extreme body modifications; the voluntary tortures people put their flesh through in the name of sexual liberation. But it wasn’t just about pleasure. He discovered that some people on the more extreme end of the spectrum did these things as a revindication against all the arbitrary forces trying to dictate what their bodies should looksmellfeel like. He admired and feared them. Some of the methods seemed so alienating and permanent, although he knew that was rather the point.

He figured that the most impermanent way to reappropriate one’s body must be through sex. He was still young, after all. Plus, he’d learnt from the internet that by being a cis white male he had all the advantages in the world for pulling, and he didn’t feel so bad about using them when he woke up screaming and tearing at his own flesh in the middle of the night.

So thus began his egregious career in fucking.

Marlene had been a great start. They were playful, too stubborn in giving themselves permission to feel pleasure to feel much shame. He felt like he’d grown years in maturity just from having to think about another person’s body and how to be good to it. He discovered that sex is not just about positions and acts and orgasms. You had to have a certain level of emotional intelligence, set boundaries and, most of all, be kind. They did well by each other, and it never occurred to them that their relationship could be anything but platonic.

Word got around and people got jealous, taunting. Marlene suffered much more because of it, being a girl – Sirius mainly got admiration and neither had patience for the double standard. Marlene had her own reasons for wanting to explore with him and he knew her story in broad strokes. He had contemplated explaining his own feelings to her, but every time it came up he couldn’t get it out.

Upon turning sixteen, they started looking in different directions. Sirius continued to educate himself and shared what little he managed to capture about the queer world with her. They went from never questioning their heterosexuality, never even knowing they were straight because straight was the status quo, to finding out that they were both bent as fuck. Marlene realised she was in love with her best friend Dorcas and for a while Sirius thought he might be in a similar predicament.

On a hot summer’s day before the start of final year, he offered James Potter a blowjob. Why shouldn’t he be in love with his best friend, his saviour, his new home? The Potters had given him a roof over his head, warm meals sprinkled with laughter, and sweet kisses goodnight. God, he’d never even _known_ he was touch-starved until he was hugged for the first time. He had tried to hide it, but somehow they knew and it broke their hearts. James, however - beautiful, wonderful James - took it all in stride. He blurted out truths as if daring anyone to prove him wrong.

_Of course your family is evil, no child should be treated that way._

_I wish your parents could spend the rest of their lives in Azkaban for what they did to you._

_I love you Sirius, you’re my best friend._

_It’s not your fault._

_You deserve to be free._

He never insisted upon any of this, never made it into a big deal. He just stated it as if any sane person would agree with him. Sirius started believing this might be true. Maybe the Potters really could be his family; his chosen one, rather than a parody thereof.

Except that he fucked it all up. From Sirius’s perspective, the blowjob story went a bit like this:

They were lying top and tail in their boxers on James’s bed, window open for a pathetic summer breeze and sounds of cicadas to intrude on their sweltering bubble. Led Zeppelin was playing softly from a speaker on the other side of the room.

Sirius was reflecting on the revelations he’d had in the last few years. His adolescence had resembled a never-ending cycle of evolutions and stagnations, but the more banal aspect of puberty had been awkward boners, mainly in the locker rooms. He and Marlene had decided to take the next natural step in their relationship and start sleeping with other people. There was a particular girl in the year above, Belinda O’Leary, who loved oral sex. He’d gotten a few sloppy, wet lessons in how to make someone with a vagina come, but she mainly just liked going down on him for hours on end. Very useful during exam period, that’s for sure. He realised one day that he’d been studying her technique to one day replicate it. He had tried to think about which boys he would actually want to go down on – a way to materialise his supposed queerness. There were a few boys-almost-men who made him hot and bothered, but he didn’t like them as people and couldn’t bear the idea of speaking to them even just enough to get inside their pants. He also knew he might not be very good at it the first time and didn’t want someone who would get impatient or make fun of him. Then, one day, when he was spacing out in the communal showers after Quidditch, he caught himself staring at the prettiest cock he’d ever noticed. Without much conscious thought, he found himself ogling smooth dark skin, a sharp V , abs to go with it, and a bubble butt he wanted to sink his teeth into. It wasn’t until he heard a shower being turned off that he shook himself out of focus and met his best friend’s eyes.

James had looked…confused. Sirius quickly turned off his own shower and they made their way to the lockers. They dressed and exited in silence but, from the moment the door of the changing room slammed sharply behind them, they acted like it had never happened.

There were many things he didn’t know in life, and many bad things he unfortunately was convinced of, such as insubstantial beliefs of being unlovable, weak, attention-seeking, a bad brother - but he could never grab those thoughts by the horns, as if they were made up of smoke and mirrors, impossible to prove or disprove. Sometimes, he even thought he was trying to be queer just to feel special, although he would soon learn it was the internalised homophobia speaking.

But there was one thing he / _knew/_. And that’s that James Potter loved him. Whatever love meant, whatever brain chemicals made it possible, whatever societal principals made it important, James felt it for him. Whenever he felt helpless, he reminded himself of this fact.

On that summer's day, being in James’s room and smelling his skin in the air, in the sheets, in the sweaty teenage body lying next to him, he tried to find reasons why he shouldn’t go for it. From what he’d heard around, guys never refused blowjobs. He thought that he might in certain circumstances, but he didn’t see himself as A Guy. Sure, it might come as a bit of a shock to his best friend that his queerness was more than hypothetical, but James Potter didn’t have a bad bone in his body, and the worst that could happen was that he’d say no.

“Hey, Prongs. Aren’t you horny?”

James kicked him lightly in the face. God, even the smell of a teenage boy’s foot was turning him on, how could he ever have thought he was straight?

“If you mean, have I been horny 24/7 ever since I first started growing pubes, then the answer is yes. Why?” James wasn’t really looking at him, having no inkling as to where the conversation was going.

“Well, I was thinking, that if you wanted I…well…couldmaybesuckyouoff?” He had been doing so well at not being nervous, dammit.

“Pardon?” James lifted his head up to stare at Sirius. “You mean, like..?” he questioned, meaningfully glancing at his crotch and back up.

“Uh huh. Thought it might be fun with you.” C’mon Black, keep it cool.

“Is this like an experimentation thing? Like you practise kissing your best friend so you don’t embarrass yourself in front of your crush?” James’s eyebrows were scrunched up in adorable confusion.

“If that’s what helps you sleep at night” said Sirius, shrugging. They were now both on their elbows, watching each other. “It wouldn’t really be like that for me,” he mumbled, slowly, wondering how true those words were.

“Padfoot, do you like me?”

Sirius tried to detect any hints of malice or disgust in the question, but it sounded merely curious, if not slightly worried.

“Honestly, Jamie, I don’t know. All I know is that I’m attracted to you, you’re my best friend, and I’ve thought about sucking you off.” There, he was fairly certain all three things were true on some level.

“When you say ‘thought about’, do you mean…?” Once again, meaningful glance to the crotch.

“Fuck, this is so embarrassing, forget I said anything.” Sirius flopped back onto the bed, bouncing once, hands covering his scarlet face.

“No, wait, it’s fine,” reassured James, putting a hand gently on his friend’s ankle. “We should talk about it.” When Sirius glanced at him again, he realised they were both blushing. “It’s just that, well, I’m not really sure that I like blokes. Or, I mean, you told me you always need to ask people what gender they are, but I think I’d know if you weren’t a bloke.”

“Mate, you’re rambling.” Sirius was glad they’d reached more even ground. “And yeah, I’m fairly certain I’m a bloke. But anyway, this is not about blokes and non-blokes. It’s about whether you’d like to put your dick in my mouth. A blowjob is a blowjob, as they say. It’s up to you.” There, he couldn’t come up with any more words. Those words would just have to be enough.

Luckily, some of those words seemed to have hit James in the right spot, as the next thing he heard was: “Yeah, alright.” Not exactly enthusiastic consent, but that was as well as these two kids could do. “But I’ve never done it before, if that’s alright.”

Sirius was surprised to see James embarrassed. “Of course it’s alright. But it’s also alright if you want to save it for someone special.” He would never forgive himself if he pressured James with his selfish wants.

“No, I, er, I mean, would be kinda nice if it was you, I guess. You’re my best friend, and, er, we’re probably gonna know each other forever, so yeah.” James had turned beet-red and was looking circumspectly at the other boy’s cherry lips.

He’d meant for this to be a quick and dirty tumble with the boy he found most lovely, but faced with his best friend’s bashfulness, Sirius decided to switch gears.

With feline grace, he flipped onto all fours and slowly made his way to James’s luscious mouth. Ever since the locker room incident, he’d been paying more attention to the details of James’s body, and his full lips, only just a shade lighter than his skin, caught his attention more often than not. The other boy tensed as Sirius approached, but intentionally did not move. Almost chastely, Sirius stamped a kiss onto his best friend, his whole mouth only covering a portion of James’s bottom lip. They were so plush and his skin felt so good. Sirius couldn’t remember a time when he’d kissed someone so tenderly.

He was going to do it again.

After a handful of chaste kisses, James leaned up on his elbows and snapped into motion. He sat up fully and they rearranged themselves to have legs scissorred together, crotches barely touching, arms locking around each other’s shoulders. This felt almost familiar. _The Rain Song_ had just started playing from the speaker. They kissed to that tentative rhythm for long pockets of time. It was the most luminous Sirius had ever felt. Being with Marlene was fun and getting off with girls could sate his lust but touching someone he loved was lighting him up from the inside out.

When it felt mostly safe to do so, they pulled back to try and read something on the other’s face. But there were no great depths to explore - just two pink-cheeked boys showing affection to each other on a sunny afternoon. Even after kissing, it was difficult to figure out if he had any romantic feelings for James. But love it was nonetheless.

Then, as is often the case, they both got scared at how warm and safe they felt, how simple and true their closeness was, and so they had to hide behind things they had been told were straightforward, like sex.

With intent, Sirius lowered his mouth to James’s neck after a last thorough lick at his friend’s tongue. He and Marlene liked kissing, but James tasted indescribably hotter. He ran lips and tongue down the toned chest, rubbing his face into hard pecs and abs, feverishly making his way to the body part that was emitting the most intense pheromones he’d ever been subjected to.

On the one hand, a penis was a penis was a penis and Sirius had seen many in his life. They were quite pathetic things, and it just wasn’t very smart to keep one’s delicate organs hanging in such a precarious place. On the _other_ hand, the sight of a hard, leaking cock that he had permission to stare at – well. _That_ was just about the most irrationally electrifying thing he’d ever seen.

When he looked up to James for a final chance to stop the madness, his eyebrows expressed worry, but the rest of him was unmistakeably turned on. “You good?” he asked, receiving a nod in response. In what he hoped was a reassuring gesture, he grabbed James’s warm hand and placed it on top of his head, encouraging the fingers to weave through. “Hold on tight.”

The moment his lips wrapped around the cockhead, James threw his other hand over his mouth and fell back against the bedsheets with a whine. Sirius was delighted by the reaction, but most of all by the taste invading him. He tried to take his time, nosing at the pubic hair and running his tongue along smooth thighs, but his morbid fascination overtook him and he lost all restraint. His movements got so frenetic that he started humping the bed without ever stopping his licking, sucking, and breathing in of JamesJamesJames. After a small eternity, he peered up at his best friend, hoping to share a look that would consolidate something Sirius felt deep in his core: that they were experiencing this pleasure together, on a shared plane of existence they had carved out specifically to live out this moment. This was important, and they were doing it together. But in a flash, their eyes met and James gripped Sirius’s hair with both hands and pulled him roughly up just in time to get come all over shiny raw lips instead of coating worn out vocal chords. The moment Sirius felt bursting pain in his scalp and taste of come, he couldn’t help but erupt all over the bed, pleasure that much more intense for the surprise of it.

With a lazy shuffle, they returned to a closer version of their earlier position, Sirius resting his head against James’s calf after cleaning his face against the bedsheets. So this is what satisfaction felt like. The final notes of _You Shook Me_ finished playing and he allowed himself this precious moment of stillness.

Then doubt started creeping in. He peered upwards; James looked rigid, tense.

“What’s wrong?” Sirius forced himself to ask, dreading the response.

James sat up against the pillows, slowly dislodging his friend who followed him up to eye level. “I don’t think I can do that again.”

Pain. Pain shooting through like a stab or a tear, igniting his chest like a frightened flame.

“What do you mean? I thought…” He did not know how to continue. _I thought we were there together, united, on the edge of that wave, surfing and splashing and soaking in communion. Was that just my delusion?_

“Sorry,” he muttered, monotone. “I just, I don’t think it’s for me.” James wasn’t looking at him, wiping his glasses on the sweaty blankets.

Sirius didn’t know how to play it cool. How to stay there, in the sheets that smelt of them, and not burst into angry tears.

“Okay. I’m going to my room.” James didn’t stop him.

So he went, and built a little fortress in the corner between the bed and the wall, lit up by the soft glow of his wand. And there he cried and went in thought loops over whether he felt offended, guilty, patronised, predatory, humiliated. And after a couple of hours of this, he decided it was best to let go of the day altogether. He was not going to ruin their friendship over this and it’s not like he needed sex with James to be happy. James had always made him happy.

What really fucking hurt is that he had felt a transcendental connection for those few precious moments, where he thought they had been existing and perceiving as one. It had been nice to feel like he was not alone, even if it had all been in his head.

When he got called down to dinner, he walked up to James, who was setting the table in the garden, and gave him a warm hug. With a pitiful whine of relief, James hugged back and that was that.

Except that to this day, a few weeks later, Sirius could not figure out what had gone wrong. Was the kissing too gay? But that’s the part James had seemed completely fine with. His blowjob skills? Maybe James had only realised afterwards that it was his Sirius between his legs and that had just been too bizarre. But then why had his best friend looked upset? And yet James didn’t seem to be upset _at_ him. The problem was how he had started giving Sirius looks whenever he got too close, as if he was getting ready to protest for receiving an inappropriate touch. Physical intimacy had always been an important element of their friendship, and they carried on in autopilot in front of their parents and friends. However, the moment they were behind closed doors, and invisible barrier was erected between them, except Sirius didn’t know by whom. Visits to each other’s beds or company after nightmares had also been suspended and it felt like missing an organ. Hopefully, one day they’d talk about it so that Sirius could understand what he’d done wrong. And find out once and for all if that moment of pure connection had been real. He’d never stopped hoping.

Now, the wounds having scabbed over from the incident, he watches Professor Lupin aloofly dictate notes on advanced spells against legilimancy. It suddenly occurs to him that if the pain from getting his hair pulled had been the hottest element of that experience, he must be embarrassingly more clueless than anticipated.


	2. It's Your Sex I Can Smell 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapters from now on so that I can update more regularly. Hope you like it.
> 
> Also, Sirius is Gryffindor's Seeker instead of James. This chapter will hopefully be a bit more fun than the previous one, much dubious magic is performed in it.

They start getting to know each other in October once Sirius finishes running his first thought experiment. Many a night has been spent masturbating to different scenarios in his head - to surprising results. He was hornier than ever. Apparently, getting off multiple times a day to a wide array of new kinks increases one’s sex drive. His usual hook-ups certainly noticed the difference.

Not to mention that his ‘Remus Campaign’ had officially started. And, in true Marauder fashion, it started with a prank. Sirius realised he’d been a bit creepy in the last month, just staring vapidly at his professor without participating in class. He hadn’t even been speaking to his friends during lessons. 

“Finally decided to snap out of hibernation, Pads?” asked James, as they walked side by side to Professor Lupin’s classroom. Sirius had gotten all the Marauders in on his plan to woo their teacher, and the boys seemed only too happy to break up the monotony by helping out where they could. It was unclear whether Frank and Peter knew it wasn’t just for laughs, but it hardly felt worth explaining. This was Phase One: Warming Up the Target.

“I hope he takes it well,” said Sirius, displaying uncharacteristic nervousness.

“Padfoot, I’ve never seen you second-guess a prank before. Cheer up, it’ll be great!” encouraged Frank, surprised to see the usually unflappable boy doubt himself.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he replied, steeling himself. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

The group walked in, chattering away for Sirius’s sake, which only merited a brief glance up from Remus who was looking over notes at his desk. As soon as everyone was settled in, the professor got up to grab a piece of chalk and started explaining the topic of the lesson. Remus wrote on the blackboard in the Muggle way, which did _things_ to him. It made Sirius’s gaze constantly zone in on his professor’s dusty-white fingertips brushing against his rough trousers. Thinking so much about the writing implement had given him an idea.

Sirius had sneaked into the classroom the previous night under the invisibility cloak and the chalk with a spelled piece of his own design. Now, the moment Remus started writing, the chalk snapped neatly in two and one half started writing on the opposite side of the blackboard. Everyone held their breaths as the sentence appeared.

_Professor Lupin, has anyone ever told you how fetching you look in blue corduroy?_

Remus had frozen and his closed off expression was difficult to read. The chalk paused and simply levitated in front of its discarded trail as they all shared a breath of silence.

To then erupt into shouted whispers, looking around for a culprit.

With a dark look, Remus turned to his students and said in a casual tone: “Well, I can’t say I’ve ever been chatted up by an inanimate object before. I quite enjoy how it must shrink until it consumes itself to communicate with me, though.”

Everyone’s eyes shifted back to the board for a response. Meanwhile, Sirius was concentrating intensely on the wandless magic, trying to figure out how best to play this.

_I hope to succeed in my mission before I perish, although I am yours to consume._

Remus quirked up the smallest of smiles. “And pray tell, what is this mission you speak of?” The man leaned back against his desk, arms crossed in resignation. His class was loving it, some of them scooting up to the edge of their seats in anticipation.

_To have you acknowledge my affections, Professor._

The class burst into peals of laughter. Remus’s expression was now closer to a frown, which had Sirius panicking. But everything seemed fine again as his face smoothed out and the banter continued.

“Well, dear Chalk, as much as I am flattered by your advances, I really must punish your creator for wasting so much precious lesson time.” This was met by boos in the audience, which quickly ceased as Remus’s piercing gaze ran across the arena. “Who should I punish for sacrificing Chalk’s lifespan in pursuit of my love?”

Most of the students were still giggling, some looking around for a guilty face. The chalk kept on levitating but thankfully all four Marauders had a good poker face.

Remus’s expression had gone back to his usual lazily superior smirk which lit up Sirius’s loins. “C’mon, who done it? You’ll get to spend two whole hours in private detention with Yours Truly.” The tempting prospect was almost enough to make Sirius confess.

_I shall grant you a private audience if you can catch me in flagrante._

As the class roared with laughter once more, Sirius read on Remus’s upturned lips the words “cocky bugger.”

Not wanting to push his luck, the chalk soundlessly dropped to the floor, void of all magic. It had truly depleted itself for the sake of Sirius’s campaign. A first among many foot soldiers.

After the lesson, his friends clapped him on the back, congratulating him on a good opening. It had indeed been good fun, but Sirius couldn’t stop thinking of the discomfort Remus had seemed to conceal throughout. He was going to try one more public gesture before revising his mode of attack.

However, his second plan was unexpectedly delayed when Remus was reported ill during Gryffindor’s first match against Ravenclaw. It was even more frustrating when no one knew why. Even Frank, who always seemed to know everything about everyone in the castle, couldn’t get any reliable sources. He had been the one to create the Marauders’ map, which in this case merely confirmed that Remus was in his quarters on Monday morning during Defence. If Sirius had known over the weekend, he would’ve checked the map then too, but it felt wrong to constantly spy on such a private-seeming person.

On Tuesday, a haggard-looking Professor Lupin charmingly apologised for his absence and resumed teaching as normal. Luckily, Gryffindor vs Slytherin was just around the corner.

®®®

The whole school was buzzing in the arena, swallowed up by the ritual and tradition of the game.

This year, much to James’s chagrin, the two rivals were evenly matched, Slytherin having acquired a new seeker to go up against Sirius.

“Alright, Padfoot, you gotta make me proud. This game depends on you,” announced James, patting his friend on the head.

“Woah, Potter, way to invalidate all of our roles whilst putting an unreasonable pressure on one player,” intervened Dorcas, not wanting Sirius to get stage fright.

“Nonsense, Meadowes, every member of the team is crucial, but no one becomes seeker if they don’t crave that responsibility,” replied James dismissively. Dorcas had only joined the main team this year and often found herself confused by James and Sirius’s dynamic.

Embarrassed by his best friend’s statement, Sirius followed up with: “Alright, Prongs, I’ll catch the snitch for you.” He wanted the attention away from him, at least here on the ground where he was Sirius Black rather than Gryffindor’s Star Seeker. He couldn’t exactly tell James he was more nervous about his romantic performance than his athletic one.

“There, it’s settled. Any final questions? No? Okay folx, let’s soar.”

The match turned out to be a frustrating series of manoeuvres with both teams getting angry and sweaty and nowhere on the scoreboard. It was almost a relief when half-time arrived given they all felt stuck in a futile spiral.

Then, just as the players were heading down towards the locker rooms and the audience started discussing the match so far, all the balls in play and the spare ones on the ground went into a frenzy. The coaches were desperately trying to chase them, but they were all suddenly acting like snitches.

Before too much alarm could build, Sirius quietly directed them to their intended target. It wasn’t obvious at first where they were headed. The audience surrounding Professor Lupin ducked in fear for their lives as seven balls, the four in play and the three spare from the trenches, barrelled towards them. They stopped about three metres from Remus’s face who, unlike everyone else, stood fiercely with his wand pointed towards the presumed attack. Professor Snape was running towards him from a row nearby, spilling drinks in hand forgotten - but suddenly froze as something curious happened.

The balls slowed down in speed to reconfigure themselves into a two-dimensional heart, the snitch as the golden tip. Because everyone else had ducked and covered, the display was undeniably meant for Professor Lupin. The whole of Hogwarts watched the levitating heart with trepidation. It certainly put into question how easy it was to spell any of the Quidditch equipment to someone’s advantage.

What they didn’t know was that Sirius had not spelled the balls themselves, as there were indeed counter-spells for that. No, he knew of way to move the air around each ball, having to keep an intense focus on the air around the snitch which was offering the strongest resistance.

Just as he was getting tired from the strain of wandless magic, Sirius realised he had no idea how long he should keep the heart up for. Until one of the teachers intervened? Professor Snape was already attempting counter-spells, but fortunately they were directed at the balls themselves. Just as he was losing control, he saw Remus, who had simply lowered his wand to gaze contemplatively at the heart, run a hand through his hair and bark out a full laugh. Oh, how Sirius wished he’d been close enough to hear it.

Professor Snape was watching his friend in disapproval as Remus giggled briefly and recomposed himself almost shyly, wiping a hand over his face to school his expression shut.

Sirius’s gesture had been acknowledged. He took this as signal to let the balls drop to the ground, except for the snitch which resumed its manic trajectory. He sneaked a look at James, who was laughing knowingly at the crowd in chaos. Dumbledore could be seen in the distance trying to pacify a furious Filch, but the Headmaster’s body language displayed no alarm. McGonagall was shaking her head in ill-disguised amusement.

After the crowd’s outburst had dimmed slightly and it was obvious nothing further would to happen, the coaches shouted at the teams to go to the locker rooms to regroup.

Everyone apart from James had discarded all thoughts of the game and couldn’t stop nattering away about what they had just seen.

_So who do you think has the hots for Professor Lupin?_

_How did they manage to pull off that spell? Wouldn’t you have to be really strong? Must be one of the teachers._

_That was sooo romantic, I wonder who it was?_

_I can’t believe someone would do that for Lupin of all people._

Before Sirius could react and give himself away, James authoritatively asked Hector McLeod, the Gryffindor batter, to explain what he meant.

“Well, he’s a bit of a weirdo, isn’t he? He looks odd and I’ve seen him hang out with that cross-dressing Potions teacher. What kind of Gryffindor is best friends with a Slytherin freak?”

Sirius had indeed noticed that the two teachers seemed to be friends. One more thing to investigate. In the meantime, he was never going to speak to his teammate outside of Quidditch ever again. Let James deal with him, that’s what cis-het best friends were for. He found himself reluctant to express any anger, or much of any emotion, these days. He could sense a panicked desperation for keeping everything bottled up; he could not stand the thought of losing control. Numbness was the way forward. 

After their coach yelled at them for losing focus, Sirius exited onto the pitch more exulted than ever, anxious adrenaline still pumping through his veins. It was therefore only natural that he caught the snitch moments after the second half began.

He had performed some pretty neat magic and won Gryffindor its first match of the season against Slytherin. He felt daring. With the snitch in hand, he pivoted towards Professor Lupin, fisting his hand up in victory with a boyish smile. Remus met his gaze contemplatively, just like he had observed the levitating heart. Except he never laughed.


	3. It's Your Sex I Can Smell 2

It was now time for Phase Two: Showing The Goods.

Sirius had only fucked girls since the disastrous blowjob incident with James. A couple of times at the beginning of summer, he had made out in clubs with men he met thanks to his fake ID, but it wasn't quite so easy at Hogwarts. For one, some people’s attitude sucked and there weren’t many people out. As for cheaters who were still in the closet for social status, Sirius didn’t fancy giving pleasure to assholes. He also wasn’t into anyone younger than himself, which became a big problem in final year. Plus, he found girls better to hang out with and only his fellow Marauders were decent blokes in his eyes. As for his crush, he had yet to confirm if he really was a decent bloke but his little heart couldn’t tolerate thinking otherwise.

Although this made him feel like a dirty creep, he couldn’t resist tracking his professor’s movements throughout the day, both in person and with the Marauder’s Map. For his next misguided plan, he needed to find strategic spots where Professor Lupin would pass by specific times. He tried not to dwell on how effective his stalking had become. To his utter delight, Remus could often be found in an abandoned section of the greenhouse smoking a spliff, at least during lunch break. The smaller room seemed to only house the uglier or less useful plants that had overflown from the main greenhouse, and its only features were various rickety benches and random palm trees next to empty pots and flower beds. 

It was easy to convince Marlene to hook up in the greenhouse given how aroused she got at the idea of being discovered.

“Let me get this straight, Black. You want your forbidden crush to catch you going down on me to demonstrate what a giving lover you are? A dude you’ve never really spoken to before? Not to mention a dude who is ten years older than you and your teacher?”

“Well, Marlene, when you put it like that it sounds like an even better plan,” he said, grinning. “Pretty please? I’ll make you come loads.”

“Oh, fine. You sure we won’t get in trouble, though?” She was already getting wet. He was tempted to reassure her they would.

“Nah, the reason he comes here is to smoke weed, we’ve got mutual blackmail to fall back on. Come on, let’s find a spot he’ll definitely have to pass by.”

She squinted at him. “Do I want to know why you know he smoked weed in here?”

“Ignorance is bliss, as they say! Now get your skirt up.”

Smoothly as planned, the muffled moans from Marlene’s third orgasm attracted their intended audience. Remus had innocently walked into the room, spliff in hand, when he heard an alarming groan. The professor immediately imagined someone moaning in pain, but the only thing getting beaten up was Marlene McKinnon’s clit by Sirius Black’s clever tongue.

Upon hearing the rustle of leaves from beyond the branches secluding them, Sirius looked up just as Marlene spasmed, but he never stopped the motion of his hands or mouth. His and Remus’s eyes locked for a suspended moment, before Sirius's manners made him lower Marlene’s skirt back down. He gave her a nudge to let her know their mission had been accomplished.

As she opened her eyes, Professor Lupin dared a glance at her heated face and was confused by the lack of agitation he found there. If anything, she seemed more aroused than a few moments before.

“I don’t think I need to say you shouldn’t be doing this here,” said the man, in an unexpectedly calm voice given he was trying not to focus on the slick dripping down his student’s chin. “Not that I should be talking,” he added wryly, waving the still burning spliff in his hand. "Great, I’ll let you get back to it.” Sirius fixated on the shape of his thighs as he swiftly walked away from them. 

After the shuffling of leaves and a slamming door confirmed Professor Lupin had exited the main greenhouse, Sirius got up to his feet wiping his mouth on a shirt-sleeve. “He’s so fucking cool. And his voice, fuck. I’m going to spend the rest of my life jerking off to him, I just know it.”

“You have it bad, don’t you?” laughed Marlene, readjusting hers and Sirius’s clothes as the boy was lost in daydream.

“You have no fucking idea. I feel like he could make me come untouched just by talking to me. His fucking accent. Ugh, I need a moment.”

“Stop being so dramatic,” said Marlene, slapping him lightly on the shoulder. “I’ve never seen you this into someone, like, ever.”

He looked at her then, realising that he must be feeling infatuation for the very first time. “Yeah, this is very much the hill I want to die on.” He didn’t realise he was going to ask until he blurted “What’s it like being fucked?”

“It’s great,” offered Marlene, deadpan.

“You’re going to have to be more specific than that. What makes it so great?” How had he never wondered about this before? 

“Hmm, let’s see. What I like about it is very personal, although I’d like to think everyone who does it likes the physical side of things as well - it’s just not what makes it so good. Sorry, I don’t know how well I can explain it.” Marlene laughed upon noticing Sirius was listening intently as if to take notes. “You kind of know this,” she continued, “but for me a lot of it is how good I can make you feel. For example, when you fuck me it feels good and you’re hitting my spot and the orgasms are great and whatnot, but what really gets me off is knowing that I’m letting someone else inside me for the sole reason that it feels good to them. I like the separation between myself and my body and choosing to be used.”

“I think I might want that,” whispered Sirius, something overwhelming clicking in his mind.

“Which bit?” asked Marlene in a surprised tone, never having pegged Sirius for someone who wanted to be used.

“I want the choice of losing control. I want to be able to make that choice. Whether and how and how much my body is hurt.”

Ah, he didn’t want to feel powerless at all, thought Marlene. “Hurt? Do you think you’re a masochist?””

It felt scary to identify with that word, the concept bigger than his little brain, his little body. “I don’t know how much I get off on pain per se, need to experiment more. I know pain feels good in a non-sexual way, and I find it erotic to suffer for someone else’s pleasure so long as I have consented to giving myself in that way. This is all really new to me, though.” He paused then, not knowing whether he should go on. But fuck it, this was Marlene, the girl who’d pinkie-sworn him into never revealing her penchant for verbal humiliation. Friendship was a two-way street, wasn’t it?

“I like the idea of someone inflicting pain but me still having the power to stop it at any moment. Or them doing it just because I asked, for me to have the power for once? Them hurting me because it makes me feel good instead of to punish me, no matter how fucked up it is. Because they love me and want to be close to me in a way no one else would dare to.”

When he looked up from his thoughts, Marlene’s face had a curious expression on it. As if she knew more than she ever wanted to about how Sirius had developed that kink.

She stepped up to hug him, which panicked him for a moment. She liked seeming tough and displays of affection usually had to be stolen from her. But everything felt right when she softly whispered: “I hope you get to experience that one day.”


	4. It's Your Sex I Can Smell 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: homophobic slur used towards Sirius

As much as his mysterious bad boy vibe worked amongst his fellow students, it merely allowed Remus to ignore him in class, even after the greenhouse incident. He had hoped for a touch more acknowledgement after that, but Professor Lupin never picked on people for answers and only spoke when spoken to outside of lecturing. Sirius had also noticed that many students whispered cruelly about his scars, which on random days seemed redder and more prominent than others. He couldn’t figure out what the big deal was, but fortunately Prongs had made it his job to tell people to “fucking get over it already”.

At the end of the day, even though being utterly ignored by his crush was its own sweet torture, he yearned for more attention. 

The next day in Potions, Sirius watched with a bored expression James and Professor Snape glaring daggers at each other after his best friend had managed to make their cauldron explode and ended up dripping in scalding goo. They hadn’t been in the same class for Potions when Snape first started teaching at Hogwarts, but something must have happened for James to make himself so outwardly disliked. James had been giving it back as good as he got ever since.

“Mr Black, please accompany Mr Potter to the infirmary to get his injuries checked out. We wouldn’t want him to fall down any stairs whilst he is even more compromised than usual.”

In too much pain to fire off a scathing retort, James simply let himself be led to Madam Promfrey’s.

“Why does she hate you so much?” asked Sirius frowning, helping James wipe off some of the liquid with his own robe.

“She?” asked James, sounding confused.

“Professor Snape. Obviously.”

As an expression of horror flit across his best friend’ face.

“What have you been calling her, mate?”

“He. Him. Severus. Our teacher? What have I missed?” he asked, panicked.

“Why do you think her name is Severus?” Now it was Sirius’s turn to be confused.

“Because that’s what Filch calls him? Her?” James seemed to have forgotten all about the pain in his utter bewilderment.

“I don’t know what Filch calls her, but she’s obviously a her. Dumbledore introduced her as Severine Snape at the Sorting Hat ceremony. You were probably too distracted hexing Goyle to pay much attention. You’re not very good at this blokes and non-blokes thing, are you?”

James seemed to flashback to when he’d last heard that phrase, but apparently The Blowjob™ was still off-limits as a topic of conversation. He agitatedly shook his head as if trying to get water out of his ears, which he probably was.

“Fuck, now I know why she hates me. She must have heard me call him – shit! _her_ Severus once or twice.” The boy looked genuinely mortified. Good, Sirius hadn’t spent the better part of the last three years teaching him about gender identity for nothing. 

“I reckon what happened was that back when she went to Hogwarts as a student she was called Severus, which is why Filch remembers her as such. He’s probably doing it on purpose, the transphobic bastard.”

“I’m going to have to apologise, fuck.”

“Well, you can do it later,” said Sirius, as they reached the infirmary. “Now, for the love of Merlin, get in and get yourself healed. I’m going to go for a fag.”

“Thanks Pads, I’ll catch you later.” With a dejected smile, James entered the infirmary only to start being shouted at by a worried Madam Pomfrey.

Just as Sirius headed to his next class after his cigarette, all doors slammed open for classes to change. Naturally, he managed to bump head first into his favourite person.

“Don’t touch me, faggot,” rebuked Lucius, violently pushing Sirius into a wall.

“What, you’re scared it’ll catch, Malfoy?” he spit back. His blood was already boiling - this boy should hold no power over him and yet always managed to remind him of the verbal humiliation he suffered at Grimmauld Place.

It was almost comical how Malfoy reeled back, face gone mauve at the accusation. Before Sirius could react, all of his minions were holding their wands out, but Malfoy was the quickest at pointing it at him to start shouting a battle hex.

But, before he could utter the whole phrase, an Expelliarmus was heard by the Welsh voice which had been haunting Sirius’s dreams.

“Mr Malfoy, don’t even try to deny what you were about to do. I will now escort you to Dumbledore’s office. Everyone else, please go to class as you are already late.” Then, more softly: “Mr Black, please wait for me in my office. I’d like a word.”

Fuck, that was hot. The visual of Professor Lupin authoritatively chastising the bully figure and uttering the cliché porn dialogue of “wait for me in my office” was the stuff of dreams.

Trying not to appear shaken by the exchange, he gave a quick salute and a “You got it, Prof” before quickly making his way to Remus’s office. This was a good chance to get some clues about his reserved professor.

However, despite wanting to focus solely on how he was about to spend some time alone with Remus, his stubborn brain couldn’t stop replaying the slurs Lucius always threw at him - superimposed and echoed ad infinitum with the voices of Orion and Walburga. He managed to exit the thought loop only when, upon entering the office, Remus’s smell washed over him. It was Earl Grey, tea tree oil, musty old books, and traces of weed. He felt hugged. It was even more calming than James’s smell.

There actually wasn’t anywhere to sit down, it was a glorified closet. Books lined the walls and a desk plus armchair were squeezed against the small window at the end. He settled for perching on a thick stack of tomes he categorised as ornamental.

Once again, all he wanted was to get excited about being in a confined space with his crush, but his mind kept stubbornly running off towards Grimmauld Place. Before he could get too frustrated at his inability to stop reliving those memories in cycles - dipping in and out like waking up screaming from a dream and falling back asleep every ten seconds - the hottest man alive stepped into the office, softly closing the door behind him.

“Pardon the wait, Mr Malfoy was not very amenable.”

Sirius wanted to apologise for wasting Remus’s time and getting him involved in Malfoy’s bullshit, but got distracted by the way Professor Lupin’s trousers stretched over his thighs as he took a seat at his desk. It had probably been a few seconds when he realised he had been addressed.

“Sorry, what?”

“I asked if you wanted to talk about it. What the almost-duel was really about,” repeated Remus, unperturbed.

Talking about Sirius’s family was the most sure-fire way of dissipating arousal. “It’s family business.”

“Is there bad blood between the Blacks and the Malfoys?” Sirius didn’t like how Remus seemed to know exactly what those names stood for. 

“Oh no, only the best and purest blood flows between them. It’s me who has contaminated the pool,” he drawled. “Lucius has never managed to beat me at Quidditch or academics and so he must feed his superiority complex by reminding me of how Mummy and Daddy love him best,” finished Sirius with an eye roll.

Something in Remus’s body language had changed throughout the explanation. He had uncrossed his beautiful legs and was leaning forward on the desk, looking at Sirius with renewed interest.

“Why do you say you contaminate the pool?”

Sirius stuttered a few times attempting to respond, feeling overwhelmed by the myriad of different reasons he could provide. How to express how much of an unwanted existence he was to his parents?

“Let’s just say that I was legally adopted by the Potters last year and I haven’t spoken to my parents since.”

Unexpectedly, Remus’s expression did not shift, maintaining eye contact, and he straight-forwardly asked: “Are you happy with the Potters?”

Sirius’s lovestruck heart was going to implode. “More than I’ve ever been.” Pause. “I think they might love me.”

Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump.

“Sirius, that’s a really heart-breaking way of putting it,” whispered Remus, almost scolding.

The boy felt himself blush. “I’m sorry for unloading on you. You were probably just trying to make conversation.”

“Not at all. I wouldn’t have asked if I hadn’t wanted to know. I’m glad you’re living with the Potters.” Professor Lupin’s smile was the most disarming thing Sirius had ever seen. “Let me know if Mr Malfoy gives you any further problems, although I doubt it after the talking to he must be receiving from Professor Dumbledore.”

“Huh? Dumbledore doesn’t seem like he could hurt a fly.”

“That’s what the old man likes to make you children believe,” said Professor Lupin, with a gut-wrenching smirk.

“You’re not old enough to make that remark.”

“Being a child is not so much about age as it is about experience. I’m sure there are mature ones among you, but spending seven years in a boarding school is generally not challenging.” Here Remus seemed to stop himself, frowning. “I am sorry, I do not mean to sound condescending. Perhaps I’m projecting.” He seemed to reflect on this before adding: “Adulthood suits me in a way being a boy did not.”

Proving his young age, the boy’s brain started rejecting the serious conversation they were having and he suddenly blurted out: “Do you not get worried you’re going to get caught smoking weed at school? Although you never look high to me.”

Remus did not seem fazed by the sudden change in topic and his face lit up with an amused smile. Calm down, Sirius. “It’s not proper weed. When you saw me smoke, it was CBD flowers.”

Sirius couldn’t even pretend to know what those were.

“Simply put, marijuana has two components of note: CBD and THC. THC is what gives you all the wavy mind-altering stuff. CBD alleviates pain and anxiety. I could take something else for my anxiety, but smoking CBD flowers acts as a placebo given that I do smoke proper weed in my spare time.” Remus relayed this as if he was lecturing, not at all concerned about being so open with a student. His posture was relaxed, long body leaning back in a sprawl. Sirius wanted to crawl inside him.

“I’ve never thought of you as someone anxious,” he expressed, trying to process the new information.

Professor Lupin’s smile then was self-deprecating. “That’s because I work really hard at not showing it. And I smoke the CBS flowers, of course,” he added, with a hint at humour.

“I’m sorry you’ve got anxiety. I don’t know much about it but I've heard it's quite debilitating,” said the boy, suddenly being washed up in a wave of sadness.

Remus’s body language had been relaxed for the last few minutes, but this made him stiffen and stand up from his chair. “That’s quite alright, Mr Black. I manage quite well. Let me write you a note to take to your next class.”

Without glancing again at Sirius who worried he’d been insensitive, Remus grabbed a notepad to quickly sign and rip off a page, placing it on another stack of tomes nearer to Sirius.

Getting the message that his time was up, he grabbed the piece of paper and made his way to the door, brain scrambling for a final thing to say.

“Oh, and Sirius?”

He pivoted on his feet only to realise he was standing less than a foot away from the taller man, who was leaning attractively against the doorframe, wide shoulders contrasted against light shining through from window. “Yes, Professor Lupin?” he replied, more breathless than he would have liked.

“I understand your problem with Mr Malfoy is more complex than it appears, but please know you can always come to me if you are receiving any kind of homophobic abuse. I can bring any concerns to Professor Dumbledore in my name, if that will help.”

Wow, he really didn’t wanna talk about this. His walls came up and he was able to become the alter ego he had so carefully crafted. “Oh but _Professor_ ,” he enunciated, “I am not at all ashamed of being queer, only of my last name. Thank you for the support but I’ll be just fine.” He needed space. “I’ll see you tomorrow in class!” he threw back with a wink, already walking away from the open doorway.

From the corner of his eye, he saw a perplexed-looking Remus waving him off. He needed a cigarette. His vision was blurring, heart banging against his ribcage, tears forming in his eyes without his consent. He needed out out _out_

When his hearing and vision returned, he found himself behind the Quidditch pitch with a half-smoked cigarette between his fingers. He tried to inhale deeply, the smell of dew almost making him smile.

This type of wobble seemed to occur whenever he was forcefully dragged back to Grimmauld Place. The reality in his mind’s eye always predominated over his physical existence. Since running away from home, he had tried to delude himself into thinking he had his shit together, but it had just been waiting to explode on him with Remus, of all people, as witness. All he wanted was to be young. Be good. Be sane. But here he was, crying in a field, wondering how he could just fucking tear himself out of being Sirius Black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things will get better, I promise. Believe it or not, there’s supposed to be more comfort than hurt.


	5. You Can Have My Absence of Faith 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read so far! Let's get further into the WolfStar.

Autumn flows into winter and Sirius is still floating, both in obsession and in disassociation. Since their exchange in Professor Lupin’s office, he has gone back to pining from afar whilst Remus interacts with him like with any other student – that is, not at all.

It occurs to Sirius days after the conversation that Remus didn’t even breech the topic of who his secret admirer might be. Perhaps both displays have already been forgotten. How fucking depressing.

But the real Professor Lupin has little bearing on Sirius’s daily mental schedule. At night, fucking into his fist behind closed curtains, his thoughts often run away from Remus into the clutches of disembodied hands and deconstructed imperatives.

_watch me, see me, grab me, squeeze me, grip me, crush me, hurt me, punch me, fight me, take me, kick me, slap me, kiss me, lift me, bite me, choke me, restrain me, push me, straddle me, cuddle me, hug me, seek me, soothe me, overpower me, awe me, grope me, spank me, make me, unmake me, overwhelm me, break me, trust me, mark me, hail me, worship me_

It was awful and awfully addictive to have a chest full of emotions which kept evading him.

The next time he fucks Marlene, he tries to imagine himself in her place and Remus in his and it makes him come harder than ever. He can’t bring himself to revisit the moment due to the shame he feels at using his friend. Just because that’s what she was into, it didn’t mean that he should ever stop seeing her as a person. He liked to think that, at least when he was having sex, he could exit his self-obsession and just be present in the moment for his partner. But apparently, he’s too selfish even for that. He pitifully apologises the next day, although she merely seems amused by his guilt. She doesn’t even seem to get that he’s genuinely upset. He resorts to self-flagellation and doesn’t get off for a whole week.

But Marlene is a true friend even if she doesn’t like admitting it. As soon as she realises he’s started avoiding her, she drags him to the astronomy tower and makes him grovel at her feet until he feels better. She even deigns to kick him once in the face for good measure on request, which he didn’t know would feel so right. Simplistically, this solves the problem. Especially when she kisses it all better.

Physically distant, he continues following Remus around on the Marauders’ Map. He feels disgusting for doing it – the obsession is out of control, compulsive. He doesn’t even have it in him to have sex with anyone but Marlene nowadays.

One fateful day, he burns with annoyance at his repetitive thoughts and heads straight to the greenhouse once he spots Remus walking towards it on the map. James expresses his disapproval whilst Frank and Peter just look mildly confused. They knew Sirius liked people other than girls, but it had always been theoretical to them. He hadn’t explicitly talked about his sexuality with anyone but James and even that had stopped after Blowjobgate. Well, they could go fuck themselves, the last thing he needed right now was for his friends to confirm there was something misshapen in him because of his queerness. It didn’t matter how many fucking books he read; whenever he seemed to come to a self-accepting resolution, a whole new branch of doubts started sprouting.

Maybe that could be his line of questioning! _Young acolyte seeks advice from older mentor._ Yes, that was totally going to work. When he steps into the greenhouse, his and Remus’s eyes meet almost instantly and the weird thing happens again.

Sirius cannot explain it, but it always leaves him reeling. When he’s by himself thinkingdreamingobsessing about Remus, the man’s existence whirlwinds into sounds and colours of all shapes and flavours, overwhelming Sirius with the amount of desire he feels. Wanting Remus has become somewhat of an extreme sport, heart beating and muscles straining. However, whenever he sees the man in person, whether in class, at breakfast, or like right now, the synesthetic explosion gets sucked into this corduroy-clad human vessel, standing so simply and non-committally in front of him, smoking a joint with his very human lungs and human contours. 

“Please tell me Miss McKinnon is not with you. I like this section of the greenhouse and I don’t want to have to find another spot.”

“What’s wrong with Marlene?” asks Sirius, bemused but pleased Remus initiated conversation. In his physical form, Remus may lose any phantasmagorical qualities but could still bring a blush to his cheeks.

“Nothing at all, she’s quite a brilliant witch. I just don’t fancy watching my underage students going at it on a lazy Wednesday afternoon.”

“How about a Friday evening, then? I don’t mind extending the invitation,” replies Sirius, bravely walking to the bench Professor Lupin was perched on and sliding in next to him.

Remus freezes for a moment, taking in Sirius’s closeness and invitation, but he quickly seems to recover and starts laughing that haunting laugh of his. “So this is what you’re usually like.”

It was difficult trying to contain the size of his grin at the knowledge Remus had noticed anything at all about him. “What am I usually not like?” he asks, flirtatiously leaning forward, smelling the fumes of the spliff. For all that Sirius has never managed to get his hands on the stuff, he has dreamed of the day Remus would initiate him to it. There was something so inexplicably hot about Remus smoking, the image of his frost-red lips blowing out clouds of white had him coming into his fist just the night prior. The red cinders being pressed into his chest, scalding, marking.

“Let’s see,” drawls Remus, tapping his free index finger on his chin, “you always look a thousand miles away in class, never speak up, and last time we saw each other you didn’t seem to be in the best headspace.”

Fuck fuck fuck is this Remus catching him out? No, his posture is still lax and fluid and ngh and he is barely looking at Sirius as he takes another pull from his joint.

“Yeah, wasn’t feeling too great. Malfoy is a cunt.”

Right after he says it, Sirius glances in alarm back at his teacher awaiting reprimand. Instead, Remus just mutters: “You said it, not me.” He notices the man subtly angle his body towards Sirius, expanding the space between them. He hopes he has not made him uncomfortable. Again.

Remus continues: “By the way, and please tell me to fuck off if you want, but you seemed to suddenly switch off when we said goodbye the other week. I’m only mentioning because I recognised the expression. You were fine one moment and then you just…clocked out.”

His hindbrain wanted to bolt _too exposed too exposed_  
But - Sirius wants nice things and how is he supposed to get to know this person if he doesn’t put his all into being known?

“Yeah, I don’t know, it happens sometimes. It’s like an out-of-body experience, or maybe like a parasite got hold of my brain. I lose perception of my body and get trapped inside my skull wondering what the fuck is going on.”

Way to sound utterly crazy, Sirius, for fuck’s sake! Who knew you were such a master seductor - but before he can berate himself any further, Remus turns his body completely towards him and kindly states: “That sounds like a panic attack, mate.”

“A what? There’s a name for it?”

Looking powerfully sympathetic, Remus stands up and scrunches his joint into a portable gold ashtray instead of vanishing it. Another Muggle habit; perhaps he was a half-blood. “Come with me, I’ll give you a book about it.”

If he sees anyone he knows on his way to Remus’s office, he does not notice. He trails after his professor without a word, too busy wondering how his idiosyncratic explanation could have meant something to the man.

When they get to the tiny alcove, Professor Lupin’s concentrated smell anchors him even further in the present moment.

“Here, take this.” Remus hands him a small green book, which he takes uncertainly. “Last time you told me you don’t have anxiety, but you may have a panic disorder. Anyway, don’t worry about what to call it. The book might help you figure out what’s going on when you’re rocking back and forth on the floor and angrily thinking ‘but I wasn’t even feeling sad?!’ and waiting for it to pass.”

Wordlessly, Sirius can only stare at the book in his hands, cradling it. In a few years’ time, he will realise that just because Remus had been the first to understand him, that it did not make him the only one who could. The world was full of people who would take the time to connect with him, but Merlin did it feel special for Remus to be the first.

Looking up at out-of-focus amber eyes, Sirius tries to convey how much it means to him with a simple “thank you.”

“Any time,” replies Remus casually, after looking back at him firmly as if signing a pact. “C’mon, let’s go to class.” All of a sudden, Professor Lupin is grabbing his messenger bag and escorting Sirius out of the office. With a knuckle gently pushing his back. He will be mentally replaying that contact for days.

By the time he notices, the two have stepped over the threshold of the DADA classroom together. But Remus is no longer the insightful person who bothered to see Sirius as a complex human being without prompt or reward – he has reverted back to their untouchable professor, a hazy lust fantasy.

James and Frank are eyeing him suspiciously, whilst Peter is making a valiant effort at staring out the window. Weird.

“Hello, lads. Miss me much?” asks Sirius, flashing his most winning smile.

“Please tell me you didn’t,” begs James, looking perturbed.

“Please tell me you did,” whispers Frank, always loving a good piece of gossip.

“Nothing happened, you lecherous fools. Now shush, I wanna listen.”

Before either of them could push for answers, Remus starts the lesson, rumbling voice echoing across the classroom. Thereby Sirius rests his head on his crossed elbows and doesn’t notice until the end that he doesn’t have quill or parchment. The information just flows in, easy as pie. The only other awareness he has is for the unassuming weight of the little green book in his pocket and for the thumb-sized spike poking his heart.

Remus does not look his way once. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should probably slow down the updates a bit, expect the next one around mid-week if I don't break sooner.


	6. You Can Have My Absence of Faith 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Regulus Black, stage left. Or no, actually. Sirius picks him up off the street, so he can push him through the backstage door and onto the stage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not happy with this chapter, but look forward to a bit of Remus POV in my next upload (coming tomorrow or Wednesday).

The little green book turns out to be as much of a revelation as the queer theory book he had stumbled upon years prior. He starts reading sceptically, thinking the phenomenon must be unique to his fucked up brain, hardly worth investigating. Nonetheless, as he reads, page after page and thought after thought, that which he has only ever glimpsed from afar starts solidifying in his mind. Putting a name to it makes his next panic attack almost benign. He had feared his self-diagnosed narcissism wouldn’t like his suffering to be so commonplace, but all he feels is companionship for all others overpowered by their own unruly bodies. At this time, he still believes that bodies belong to minds. 

As for his daily life, he observes he has become withdrawn in his new introspection, constantly going for walks around the castle grounds, midnight cigarettes under the cloak, stalking Remus, and his best friend inevitably notices. Part of Sirius scolds himself, self-hatred for acting out, telling himself he is only doing it (whatever ‘it’ may be) for attention.

“Jamie, I promise, I have never felt better.”

“Sirius, you _can’t_ say that,” he implores, shocked. “You don’t look better, you’re always alone and moody and melancholy. You hardly want to hang out with us or have any fun and I haven’t seen you laugh properly in weeks!” His best friend attempts grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him, but Sirius cannot bring himself to react. Even his loved one’s vicinity makes him feel bittersweet at best – it’s the first time James has touched him in private since the summer holidays.

“Yeah, alright," Sirius gets out, "but I reckon that’s a step higher from being numb and eating myself alive.”

Neither knows what to say to that.

He wishes he could still crawl into bed with James when he has a nightmare later that night, but that’s another thing they don’t do nowadays.

®®®

Despite his newfound introspection, there is one topic he cannot bring himself to think about and, based on what the book says, it’s probably what’s causing the panic attacks in the first place.

He loves Regulus. He can admit it to himself now, under cover of darkness, although it had been easier to say he didn’t care. His younger self had been much more prone to black and white patterns of feeling. If he was going to forsake the Black name, he had assumed he would have to forsake all who carried it. And yet, as he thinks about it now, about all the still-frames that flash before his eyes of his brother’s face, Regulus had looked nothing but confused the night of his escape. It was Sirius who had been stupid enough to label caring for his brother as weakness.

The two children had been so used to the toxic landscape of Grimmauld Place that Regulus must have wondered why Sirius had been suddenly tipped over the edge. They had grown up bonding through pain. Regulus always appeared strong around the halls of Hogwarts, but Sirius remembered how he’d shaken and cried whenever his parents punished either of them. His little brother was the most empathetic person he knew. But as much as Regulus had always symbiotically suffered as Sirius suffered, echoing his pain in crashing waves, even his empathy must have not been capable of processing a scene of unforgivable curses and blood-stained carpets. Sirius had seen him from where he lay burning on the floor: his brother peaking from the stairwell, expression shaved empty.

They hadn’t even said goodbye. By the time he was being looked over by Euphemia, Regulus was far, far away in a land to which he would never return. His escape had been right before the start of fifth year and the remaining holidays had been spent in convalescence. When he woke up the next night screaming, wrecked with sobs at having left his brother to the lions, he all too easily let James reassure him that they’d meet again soon.

But even those couple of weeks had been two weeks too long. When they crossed each other again at school, Regulus refused to interact with him. They had never talked much in public, silently agreeing that it was best to portray the House rivalry expected of them. But when his brother passed him by as if he were a ghost, he knew something was very wrong. He tried to approach him a handful of times in between classes and after meals but, as his Slytherin friends sneered at him, Regulus remained impassive and Sirius inelegantly lashed back. Thus, he took the easy way out and lumped his little brother in with the monsters.

And yet, no matter how much time passed, no matter how many times Regulus refused to meet his eye, Sirius could never forget the times he’d been consoled by little Reggie, sobbing because his big brother was hurt.

He suddenly wondered if the shivering Regulus in his memories had been having panic attacks too. 

A shameful part of him, however, is angry. How could Regulus not have seen what that house was doing to Sirius? If his brother loves him back, how could he not be happy for his escape? It is the best fucking thing that has ever happened to Sirius, after Jamie, thanks to Jamie - how could Regulus not _see_? Not want it for himself?

Before he can halt all his progress and scramble for the place where nothing hurts and he and his brother have abandoned each other, he grabs his feelings in his fist and marches out of the dorm.

®®®

He finds him easily, so easily he had no excuse for not doing it sooner. He knows that Reggie is one of Professor Slughorn’s protégés and can be seen exiting the creep’s circle-jerk club every Tuesday at 8pm on the dot. The Map isn’t only good for stalking disgustingly attractive pedagogues.

Luckily, the only other Slytherin in the Slug Club is unrelated to any pureblood mania and doesn’t seem to be friends with his brother. Feelings clutched tightly, he steps out of the shadows to approach his first ever friend.

“Got a warm meal and a nice pat on the head from Slughorn, did you?”

He is complicatedly delighted when Regulus startles upon spotting him in the shadows.

“I wasn’t aware we were talking to each other,” says his brother, standing up straighter. He says it so softly. And that is not what Sirius expected to hear. Hadn’t it been Regulus to create this insurmountable crater between them? Had it?

“You’re the one who’s been avoiding me, Reggie.”

He seems to flinch at the nickname.

“You’re the one who left, Sirius. You cannot just greet me when the fancy strikes, always carelessly behaving as you please.” His brother is at that age where voices break from time to time and Sirius wonders if that’s all there is to it.

“Regulus, they _made_ me leave.” He must make him understand. There must be words that will explain.

“Leaving is a choice,” mutters his brother, curtly, and Sirius’s brain scrambles for words that perhaps have yet to be invented. But what good are words when Regulus won't even make eye-contact? His brother is looking at his shoes, gaze hard and wet. For the first time, Sirius sees him as an independent entity rather than as a being to protect. Another way in which he had been going wrong. 

“Look, this is exactly why I wanted to talk," says Sirius, a frustrated edge to his voice. "I never meant to leave _you_ , Reggie. You could leave too.” Surely it’s a losing battle when he sounds insincere even to himself?

In any case, this is the wrong thing to say given Regulus’s nostrils flare and his shoulders tense. “Is that what this is? Some throw-away speech about how great you were for leaving? You know I never will, Sirius. I could never be like you, you cannot make it happen.”

“You said leaving was a choice,” he tries, begs. The choice between surviving and being eviscerated.

“What do you really want, Sirius?” He sounds so tired, so controlled. A stranger.

“I just came to give you this.” He closes the distance between them in a moment of bravery, pulling the little green book out of his pocket and dusting imaginary dirt from its cover. “You know when you used to breathe really hard and lose time?” Regulus’s expression is unyielding and yet so, so soft. “This book is about that. I was hoping you would read it.”

His brother makes no move to take it, eyes still downcast. Feeling even braver, Sirius steps in closer and tucks it into his brother's robes.

“I want to talk to you, Reggie. I’m not sure what went wrong, but I want us to be friends even if you can no longer see me as your brother.”

Only the moon illuminates their faces from the corridor’s windows. It makes it difficult for Sirius to tell whether Regulus is crying before he storms away, book tucked safely in his pocket.

He had forgotten how soft his brother was, and here he had belligerently sought him out, perhaps even gracelessly looking for a fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Frank is the fourth Marauder, what animagus form would he take and what would his ridiculous Marauder name be? Ideas?


	7. You Can Have My Absence of Faith 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius has yet to regain his grasp on reality and Remus ponders.

There, he’d done it, broken the ice or whatever. His old self would’ve patted himself on the back and declared that the ball was now in Regulus’s court. But he was trying to be a Sirius who deserved nice things and had to do better than that. Maybe James could help him come up with something.

They had so seldom spent time alone this term, their summer staining their friendship. Since when was asking for his best friend’s advice something that required courage? Was James truly beyond his reach now? Or was it that Sirius had been so locked up in himself he had stopped feeling his best friend’s presence even when they were together? He wanted that to change but people’s existence was still very foggy, his thoughts still spiralling. Sometimes he thought he was doing fine, fooling around with his classmates, chatting to anyone who approached him, trying his hardest to be who they wanted him to be. But everything was so, so foggy.

Not knowing how many hours or days had passed since his meeting with Regulus, he realised he and James were lying in bed – their very separate beds. James was in one of his rare bouts of revision despite it being the weekend and Sirius realised that at some point Frank and Peter must’ve been in the room with them studying. He didn’t have the energy to worry about losing time. 

He hated how he was even questioning whether he should wonder over to James’s bed. This kid was his family, for fuck’s sake. And sure, maybe things had been slightly awkward between them physically whenever they were alone, but that just meant James didn’t want to fuck him. Merlin, Sirius, you need to be adult enough to accept when someone doesn’t want to have sex with you. Even when sex is the only way you know how to feel connection.

Time to regain control of the situation.

He ambles over to his best friend’s bed, plopping himself down at the foot of it. Instead of the questioning look he expected, James glances up and smiles wide as if he’d been hoping for this all along. Sirius needs to stop thinking he understands what other people want because he obviously doesn’t understand anything at all.

“Mssr. Prongs.”

“Mssr. Padfoot. How may I be of assistance this fine morning?”

“As a matter of fact, dear Sir, I saw my brother last night. I was hoping Your Grace would have a word of advice for little old me.”

This caused flash of surprise, but James covered it by poising his glasses on his nose just so. “Yes, little lamb, come sit on my lap and tell me your sorrows.” They had a bad (or extremely good) understanding of Catholicism from a few cult films they had marathoned the previous Christmas. 

Without looking into the gift horse’s mouth, Sirius crawls up the bed to rest his back against the headboard, legs draped sideways across James’s thighs. He tries not to shiver at how much he needs this closeness. Maybe all he had to do in the future was ask. James was generous like that.

“You remember when I came to yours, that night?” asks Sirius, cautiously. “Crashed through the window with my broom and everything.”

“I cannot forget anything about that night.” This is said with an intensity uncharacteristic of James Potter. Sirius finds him very handsome in that moment, almost adult. He turns his gaze to the night sky before replying.

“Well, I wish the same thing could be said for Reggie. I know he was still little, but I’m thinking maybe he doesn’t remember what happened. Thing is, I remember him. I remember him watching me as my mother…” He didn’t want to see it again, dammit. James squeezed his hand tight and the image disappeared. It helped, but he continued staring out the window; he couldn’t bear eye contact right now. “He thinks I left him, Jamie.” He suddenly feels so tired, not even that persistent thrumming energy is left.

“Did you explain?” James is stroking the back of his hand in both of his, heavily looking at Sirius who won’t look back.

“Nah, didn’t really know how in the moment. First time I’ve spoken to him in years and all that. But I don’t want him to carry on thinking that’s what happened, you know? Who knows, maybe they fucked with his memories, I wouldn’t put it past my parents. I just wanna be friends with him again. I haven’t wanted to admit it, but if he could love me again, that would make me very happy,” he trails off, lower than a whisper.

“Sirius, look at me.” Without thinking about it, Sirius does. That’s it, he just needs Jamie to tell him what to do. “If he thinks you abandoned him or whatever, the best thing you can do is keep trying to talk to him. I remember when he started blanking you around school and it seems like we don’t really know why that was. You will only prove him wrong if you keep on showing that you care. He’s a tough little Slytherin, but he is kinda still just a kid. As much as a seventeen-year-old kid like me can say.”

“A solution so simple yet so hard, huh?” He can’t stop looking at James now that he has permission. Why did he think there should be distance between them? Who needed distance? Who needed boundaries? Dictated by whom?

“Yeah, I guess so. But it’s really cool you spoke to him. Proud of you.”

Okay, this was why he needs distance. James radiates love and Sirius is a black hole that will suck him hollow. He shouldn’t react so strongly to three simple words. He shouldn’t need them so fucking badly.

“Do you want a hug?” asks James, opening his arms out wide. His eyes are bright and his smile soft.

Squashing down any hesitation, Sirius leaps at him like a dog to his owner. Forces himself to have this nice thing. The warmth almost makes him cry. Except that the comfort is only brief, Sirius remembering that James is not his owner, only a best friend he expects too much from. What he is doing to James was similar to what is doing to Remus: greedily moulding them to his needs without the real person’s permission. James wants to be his best friend, with a conventional understanding of what that means. Sirius wants James to be a beautiful galaxy in which he can roam freely and take refuge. Perhaps a bit of distance is for the best. He must make an effort to meet James’s expectations and ignore his own.

Painfully, he detaches from the body he feels he should be a part of and gets up from the bed he should be sleeping in. “Thanks, mate. I’ll see what I can do about Reggie. It’s about time, isn’t it?”

He turns to go for a smoke before James calls him back. “Padfoot!” Sirius can’t read the expression on his face, only knows his voice sounds alarmed. “You know you can come to me about anything, right? Whether it’s Regulus or Professor Lupin or your parents. Anything else, too. Anything, you got it?”

It was so unlike James to sound like that. He usually approached problems with calm optimism, comforting with his soothing voice and gentle words, cool-headed in any emergency. But right then he sounded desperately worried, and Sirius will add it to the list of things he should flagellate himself for.

“Of course, Jamie. Same goes for you.” He decides not to look at his best friend’s face as he leaves the room. Taking advantage of how easy it is for his mind to check out, he ambles around the castle until he feels numb again and crawls back into bed, latching onto an imaginary version of Remus Lupin he can dedicate all of himself to.

®®®

As for how Remus experiences this pocket of time –

Well. He is immediately taken by Sirius, but not in the way the boy might hope. He cannot be attracted to a human who is not fully formed, still fluctuating dangerously between oppression, repression, and freedom. However, whilst Sirius is busy having his whole sub awakening, Remus watches and ponders.

He is intrigued by Sirius Black, yes. The boy is everything he never had the courage to be, although they will later find out that the impression is mutual. Someone like Sirius comes with his own reputation: the unidentified whispers of students and staff pile onto each other to create something of a myth. Some say he’s slept with over three-hundred people, some of whom not even human. Some Slytherin portraits like to say he sneaks into the Forbidden Forest to get fucked by centaurs, which Remus wouldn’t mind doing himself. Others swear that it is all misdirection to hide he’s having an illicit affair with Professor McGonagall.

Reactions to him vary by age: first and second years idolise the Quidditch champion, third and fourth years are scared of him and his gang, and most above the age of consent wonder whether they may be lucky enough to be next.

Many a teacher has warned Remus against the Marauders, most of all Severine who has an unexplained dislike of the whole bunch ever since she started teaching Potions two years ago. But none of them can omit how breathtakingly brilliant Potter and Black are. And of that, he has first-hand experience. For their most recent homework assignment, Remus had made each student choose a Dark Creature of their choice and write an argument-driven research paper. He had expected at least a couple of students to choose werewolves and for the essay to be an ode to their deviousness.

As he was grading the stack of papers, he looked at the words _Sirius Black_ and _An Unfinished History of Werewolf Emancipation_ and felt a surge of trepidation. He had to go make himself a cup of tea and light up a joint before he could read it. He wasn’t quite ready to fess up to how upset he’d be if Sirius shared the views of his infamous family. It was one thing for them to bond over their brains’ fucked up chemicals, and another for the boy to discover that the chemicals in question weren’t entirely human.

_Werewolves have been chosen as wizarding society’s scapegoats due to how easily the mechanism of propaganda can dehumanise them. Human supremacy has been the cause of many a genocide in the magical kingdom in an attempt to hide our concerns that certain beings are more powerful than us. Anti-Werewolf propaganda through to the 1990s tried its best to obfuscate how afraid human society was of any threats to their supremacy, and they did this by aggressively emphasising werewolves’ ostentatious menace to human safety._

It was only about halfway through the essay (and through a trusty spliff) that Remus was able to release a sigh of relief. It didn’t look like any pureblood vitriol was about to make an entrance at this point.

_The murder of adults and children justified in the name of anti-lycanthropy still happens every day all over the world, even though we have superficially made such hate crimes unlawful in the UK. This makes continuing the fight for equality even more arduous, as many centrist politicians can purport that equality has already been reached and that the issue is redundant despite alarming statistics gathered by independent bodies each year._

Remus never thought he’d one day be impressed by the sharpness of a teenager. Begrudgingly, these words made him want to be Sirius’s friend. Although he knew he shouldn’t put people on a pedestal just for not wanting to murder him.

_Although wolfsbane has allowed werewolves to be considered less of a threat to public safety, this is too little too late. If werewolves were cherished just as much as pureblood children in our society, a painless treatment for lycanthropy or a method of pacifying the wolves would’ve likely been found decades ago - no amount of tranquillisers can make up for the unforgiveable loss of life this scapegoating has caused. In the coming years, the UK should pay special attention to research being carried out in Norway, which has so far indicated that spending the full moon with animagi can make the wolf happy instead of violent, thus greatly improving the mental health of the humans coexisting with it. There is a reportedly high suicide rate among werewolves (due to anxiety, depression, obsessive-compulsive disorder, and similar illnesses) which should be tackled as an issue of public health by the government._

_By attacking werewolves, “the Other”, extremists end up acting like cancer cells attacking the organism of society as a whole. We are limiting the humane to the human, instead of revising our definition of personhood - this must include werewolves as well as many other beings we have slaughtered for power._

It almost feels like a love letter.

As for what Remus has to add to the superimposing incarnations of the boy, he’d tentatively say that his most striking feature is tenderness. It shows in the way Sirius takes James Potter’s glasses off to polish them after walking to class in a thunderstorm, or in the way he sometimes pairs off with Peter Pettigrew just to explain more complex tasks. It’s in the way none of the people he sleeps with would ever bad-mouth him, and in how Marlene McKinnon always greets him with a smile and a kiss to the cheek. He says hello to all ghosts and professors alike with a winning smile and can sometimes be seen chatting to lonely portraits in the more isolated corridors of the castle. Remus has seen him encourage the opposing team’s first years before a quidditch game, and recently let Dorcas Meadowes braid his hair for a whole week after she got teased for being interested in Muggle hairdressing.

In conclusion, if Remus were ten years younger, he knows he would fall at this magnetic prince’s feet just for the chance to orbit him. But Remus is twenty-seven, has met his fair share of fake suns (who in fact didn’t merit any satellites), and is not much interested in unstable stars who have yet to decide if they are to expand or implode. And so, he watches and wonders whether this boy will end up as one of those sad fucks who peak at seventeen and spend the rest of their days not living up to a picture others painted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the Remus POV was satisfying! I'm also working on some James POV for later chapters.


	8. You Are The Reason I Stay Alive 1

_ Bullet with Butterfly Wings – The Smashing Pumpkins _

_Now I'm naked, nothing but an animal  
But can you fake it for just one more show?  
And what do you want? I wanna change  
And what do you got when you feel the same?_

_Even though I know, I suppose I'll show  
All my cool and cold, like ol' Job_

_Despite all my rage, I am still just a rat in a cage  
Despite all my rage, I am still just a rat in a cage  
Then someone will say, "What is lost can never be saved"  
Despite all my rage, I am still just a rat in a cage_

_Tell me I'm the only one  
Tell me there's no other one  
Jesus was an only son, yeah  
Tell me I'm the chosen one  
Jesus was an only son, for you_

_And I still believe that I cannot be saved_ _  
And I still believe that I cannot be saved  
And I still believe that I cannot be saved  
And I still believe that I cannot be saved_

Sirius lays awake in bed, softly whispering to himself a song he’s had on repeat all summer. To his own surprise, he ends up thinking: “Fuck off, Billy Corgan, I believe I _can_ be saved by a soft-hearted vision I’ve projected all my lusts and fears upon.”

He had hoped that interacting with Remus would quench the compulsive nature of his infatuation. Hah, nope. Whenever they talk, Sirius’s brain switches back to Reality Mode and he is able to behave within normal social boundaries. However, the moment he is alone, Remus warps into this beacon of ecstasy and fulfilment – a role he has no right to assign to anyone. If even James refuses the role, why would anyone else accept?

Yet, he cannot not help it. He tries with all his might to resist the temptation, but still checks the map multiple times a day, sometimes even more than once per hour, just to see Professor Lupin’s name on it. Perhaps this is his desperate attempt at proving that Remus is real rather than a figment of his overactive loneliness. His friends are a good distraction on some days, but he feels so utterly separate from them. It’s like watching himself interact with them from a corner of the room. The biggest type of problem they’ve ever had in life has been missing dinner because of detention. Aaand now he has to feel bad for wishing bad things upon his loved ones. Anyway, he knows rationally that he is the one who has created this insurmountable distance in his friendships; he can barely even remember if it has always been this way. On stormier nights, he makes himself believe that even that connection had been a figment of his hope. 

®®®

If he hadn’t been looking at the map so often, he would’ve probably missed Professor Lupin’s name slipping off it one evening. It is fun to imagine where he could’ve gone, but Sirius figures he’s just sneaked off to Hogsmeade for a pint with a friend. Oh how wonderful to be so close to Remus as to be invited out for a pint. To sit in a booth in each other’s personal bubble, knees almost touching - to be granted permission to look at his face and smell him and fixate on his large hands holding a cold, perspiring glass.

He doesn’t think much of it until they get news from McGonagall the next day that Remus won’t be attending class. It’s like a déjà-vu of the previous month when he’d missed the match against Ravenclaw. Two days later, their teacher reappears looking tired and calm, scars raised angrily on his cheeks. When Sirius tries to catch his eye as he exits the classroom, the professor quickly turns his face away to look out the window. He thinks back to Remus’s expression for a very long time – he had looked ashamed.

®®®

Saturated hours are spent staring at the ceiling and clenching his muscles and wondering what it would take to get someone to squeeze him so tight he screams. All his life is a charade of keeping it fucking together _except with James but even that is now gone_ and he’s so fucking good at it they’re just going to let him rot pretending to be something convenient. How liberating would it be to fight and struggle only to be pushed back down, bedsprings and wrists creaking from the force of the restraint, large hands knowing that he’s never going to win, never going to get out, teaching him that all he can do is tire himself out and succumb to the inevitable end – an end where he’s gasping and hard and forgiven for not pretending to want to keep fighting.

The next time he sees Remus, he’s a mess. He almost doesn’t want to step into the greenhouse for fear of disrupting the vicious cycle of yearning and loss Imaginary Remus can stir up. It had become pleasurably addictive. But his survival instinct must kick in, wanting to stop the madness by activating that mechanism in Sirius’s brain that makes him act normal in front of the real, complex Remus.

“Good afternoon, Professor Lupin,” he greets, tunelessly.

“Hey, long time no see.” Remus treats him so normally, almost as a friend. How can he keep on using him like that? He is disgusting. As far as he knows, Remus could be straight - and even if he isn’t, why would he be into a horny, repulsive child like Sirius?

“You wanna sit?” The man’s real voice, real and rough and almost (almost) banal, breaks him out of the thought-loop.

“Would that be okay?” he asks, an edge of desperation evident even as he inches a couple of steps in Remus’s direction.

The professor is smiling but it’s obvious he’s alarmed by Sirius’s strange demeanour. “Don’t start asking now, Sirius.” Remus has used his name. Sirius is real. Remus is real. The smell of the plants and humidity starts sticking to his nostrils. He is in the greenhouse and Remus wants to spend time with him and everything will be okay.

“Would you like a drag?” His professor’s expression is inscrutable but not unkind.

It’s funny how he spends nearly all his free time thinking about this man and now he can barely register his presence. Looking down, he sees Remus passing the joint to him, slender fingers crossed over the stub.

“Thank you.” Shakily, he brings the spliff to his mouth, inhaling before it even touches his lips. Focus, Sirius. This is a moment you have dreamed of. Why isn’t it enough? Why is nothing ever enough for you?

One toke, two tokes, three slow tokes. He thinks Remus must be looking at him but forces himself to keep his eyes closed. When he blinks his eyelashes up, the world looks sharp and striking, millions of particles twisting and dripping in green.

He is in the greenhouse.

“I get what you mean now, Remus.”

“What about?” No reprimand for using his first name. A calm, gentle tone. A physical person with neurons firing off, blood pumping and a precious, infinite self.

“That it’s good for anxiety but nothing else happens. I see everything quite clearly now.” Turning to meet amber eyes, he passes the spliff back, purposefully brushing fingers against warm skin. “Thank you.” He means it so hard. He needs to get rid of Imaginary Remus so that Complex Remus can become as solid and luminous as he is in this moment. He needs to get rid of Imaginary Sirius so that Real Sirius can allow himself to feel, welcome any and all emotions: the boring, mundane ones; the harsh, unforgiving ones, the gory and resplendent ones.

Not moving his hand very far, but ceasing contact with Sirius nonetheless, Remus looks contemplatively at his hand before asking: “Do you feel lucid now?”

“Lucid?” asks Sirius, wonderingly. He’s never thought about it like that.

“It’s how I like to refer to myself when I’m in control: not anxious, aware of myself and reality. It’s how I refer to my friends when they come out of a bad episode. When you know someone well, it becomes obvious when they’re lucid or not, even if they feel the pressure to fake it.” He pauses, scrutinising Sirius’s face. “But with you, I’m struggling to tell.” He looks so serious. Like Euphemia and Fleamont had looked when he’d first come to stay with them, swollen cheek pressed against James’s outer thigh as he laid on their soft rug in front of the fireplace, staring at the flames hoping they’d consume his retinas, preventing him from rewatching the same scene overandovernadoverand

The greenhouse. He’s in the fucking greenhouse.

He wants to tell Remus not to worry about him. He doesn’t even know what the fuck is going on, he should not be placing this burden on a near-stranger. Because that’s what they are.

“Sirius, I might be reading this wrong but…” Oh God what is he going to say, is Sirius’s unhealthy yearning that obvious? “We don’t know each other very well, so I’m not sure, but if you feel like you’re intruding whenever you come here, but there’s no need. You can come here every lunchtime if you want. We can chat.”

Oh great. Professor Lupin thinks there is something so irrevocably wrong with him that he needs teacher intervention.

And maybe he does.

He’s been yearning for someone to take away his voice altogether, but an adult he can talk to about the scratchy mess his brain and guts have become is surely a less drastic measure he should attempt first?

“Remus, I… don’t have your book anymore,” he replies, shooting off a non-sequitur when his chest starts aching. 

“Oh, did you lose it?” Only this guy could make the question sound so casual.

“I gave it to my brother. It suddenly occurred to me that he might need it and I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.” Sirius’s eyes are downcast, awaiting reprimand.

“If you say he needed it, he needed it,” responds Remus simply, as if he doesn’t care either way. But then, not casual at all, “Did _you_ need it?”

And Sirius must look up deep into amber eyes then: “I really fucking did. Thank you so much.”

“Hey, enough of that. I’m not really the kind of person who likes hearing please, thank you, and sorry. But I do like smiles and we’ll call it even if you give me the tobacco I know you illegally own.”

“I didn’t take you for a hypocrite, Mssr. Lupin,” he replies, bringing a hand to his chest in mock scandal.

“Not at all, Mssr. Black. I’m going to roll us another joint and I’ve run out.”

“Padfoot,” he corrects, shyly.

“Pardon?”

“Mssr. Padfoot, if you want. It’s my nickname.”

Remus smiles at this and it is at once the most harmless and wicked thing Sirius has ever seen.

“I don’t want to know, do I?”

Sirius bursts out laughing, surprised at how easy it is, how light and surreal. “No, Remus. You really, _really_ don’t.” 


	9. You Are The Reason I Stay Alive 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folx, this is the last chapter I have that is fully drafted (damn me, should've just finished editing the fic before needing validation) so I may become less predictable as we continue but I will promise at least a chapter a week. There should be around thirty chapters in total.

Next time they see each other, Remus is in technicolour. Where had his eyeballs been facing until now? Yeah, sure, he had noticed Remus was hot, big fucking pat on the back, but how hadn’t he noticed that he was so bloody soft? And talkative to boot, sharing things people his age kept close to their chests. So different from his aloof teacher persona. It makes Sirius want to swallow him whole and keep him safe in a cosy corner of his ribcage. Their lunchtime dates blissfully continue and Sirius feels more than he has in a long time.

One November day, he stumbles into the greenhouse after having shoved down unidentified food and waved a hasty goodbye to his friends. Frank was getting annoyed at his secrecy, and James and Peter were getting upset at his lack of enthusiasm for staging pranks. But Sirius, guiltily, had more pressing needs to attend to. He practically sprinted towards Remus, not wanting to waste even a precious second of this unrepeatable hour. He finds him sitting in a human-sized vase filled with earth, symmetrically placed in the middle of the semi-empty room, presumably vacant of a green inhabitant.

“Do you need watering?” he hazards.

Remus bats his eyelashes open. His palms are face up on his thighs, knees crossed. Sirius thinks he’s seen that pose somewhere but can’t place it.

“Sorry, just having a rough day. Let me uproot myself.” Now that he looks more closely, Remus’s scars are red and his eyes are bruised with fatigue and he feels like sobbing for it.

Sirius can’t figure out what having a rough day has to do with pretending to be a plant, but spikes of worry make him leave his curiosity behind.

“Anything I can do you?” he asks, too transparently.

“That’s…very sweet.” Had he called him sweet? “But no, a nice fat joint will sort me right out.”

Ok, yes, Remus doesn’t speak to Sirius about his problems, it just isn’t the done thing. “Does Dumbledore know what you’re really like? Still can’t believe one of my professors is such a libertine.”

“Sirius, Professor Dumbledore has dirt on me you couldn’t even dream of,” retorts Remus with a grin.

Boy, he has to fight really hard not to think about that one.

“No, but seriously, if you’re having a rough day it might help to talk about it? I’m not just a stroppy kid, I promise.”

Remus looks at him then, really looks, and whatever thought he was about to voice changes trajectory. His scars are angrier than usual and Sirius wonders whether that’s correlation or causation. “Let’s just say that today I’m not feeling too lucid. Lots of bad thought loops, I’m hating being around people. Not you, I mean _people_. Just a bad fucking day, you know?” The fact that he isn’t “people” is maybe the best thing ever.

Sirius wonders whether he can ask more. There is something about their dynamic that forces information to only flow in one direction. “You said the CBD helped with your anxiety. Do you have social anxiety?”

“No, not quite,” replies Remus, pensively. He waits for more, and for a few seconds Sirius thinks they’ll never overcome this pause. From the bench he’s now perched on, Remus is staring at the vase he had been trying to grow out of. But then he meets his gaze and continues: “I have generalised anxiety, which is really fucking annoying but doesn’t affect my self-esteem, just how functional I am. And then I have body dysmorphia, which sometimes makes me act like I have social anxiety.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what body dysmorphia means. I’m guessing it’s a Muggle term?” asks Sirius, wanting to understand. The green book hadn’t mentioned.

“Oh god, how to describe,” exclaims Remus, looking mildly irritated.

Sirius could tell him that he doesn’t need to describe, that they could drop it and talk about something else, but he is too greedy.

“I’m sorry, I guess I do know how to describe,” continues Remus, “I’m just a bit reluctant to explain it to someone like you? Is that too honest to say?” he concludes, furrowing his eyebrows at the sky.

“Is this about my family?” Sirius blurts out. Was his heart about to be excoriated?

“No, oh my god, nothing to do with your family. That came out wrong.” Sirius has been sitting on a bench facing Remus’s, and he almost flinches when a lithe weight plops down next to him. “I meant someone who looks like you. There’s part of me that feels you wouldn’t understand, which is probably underestimating you, which is unfair.”

Wait, brain rewind. 1. Remus was not alluding to him being a Black. 2. Remus is now at a dangerous level of closeness i.e. he can smell his mouth-watering aftershave. 3. Something about his looks?

“I can’t promise I’ll get it, but you can try me if you want.”

“See? Underestimating you,” remarks Remus, smiling wryly at his lap. They are sitting on opposite sides of the bench, but it feels way too close for the boy’s bleeding heart. 

“You remember that silly thing with the chalk a few weeks ago?”

Nodding, let’s nod.

“And there was also that thing at the Quidditch match.”

Yup, the nodding strategy.

“Well, that kind of thing really freaks me out. I know I look the way I do, and it’s already hard on any normal day to remind myself it doesn’t actually matter that I look this way. But then this morning at breakfast there was another prank and it’s the same public humiliation all over again and it’s really hard to be above it, you? For fuck’s sake, I’m an adult in my late twenties and a bunch of insignificant teenagers, no offense, can still make me feel this way. Fuck, I don’t miss being a student. And there were something like thirty students in the chalk class and let’s not even talk about the Quidditch match and once again at breakfast there was the whole school so I’m not sure how I’m supposed to narrow it down.” He distractedly starts picking at a scab on his cheek. “I just want to forget what I look like when I’m teaching. I’m supposed to be Professor Lupin, not Remus. No one is supposed to care. When I was young, we all thought teachers had spawned out of the ground wearing Hogwarts robes and armed with a cane. Why can’t I have that? I just want to be a sexless, crotchless teaching robot, at least at school.” He sighs heavily, skidding to a halt. “Anyway, sorry, you probably don’t want to hear this kind of speech from one of your professors, huh?”

Well, maybe the flow of information isn’t so unilateral after all. He would have to rejoice about this later, way later. Sirius’s brain is struggling to come back online, some kind of emergency eject button has been activated by the amount of sheer horror crowding his ribcage. He tries to fixate on the first thing that springs to mind, he’s been quiet for too long.

“What do you look like?” At Remus’s blank look, he blushes. “You kept talking about the way you look, but I’m thinking I must be missing something because I don’t really get what you’re trying to say.”

“Well, you know. Err, the fact that I’m ugly.”

This is said with such certainty that Sirius is left speechless, waiting for an addendum that Remus must not find necessary. 

“Where?”

Remus laughs at him, and that doesn’t make any sense. Sirius’s brain feels like it’s trying to count the grains in a bag of rice with his hands tied behind his back in the booth of a moving desert truck.

“Curious follow-up question. Obviously my face, but just generally.” Remus waves his hands as if everything he is saying has been in the scriptures since the beginning of time. “What I mean is that I’m perfectly aware of the fact but it would be nice to not be publicly reminded every other week? It’s just a bit rough sometimes. But I already feel better speaking to you, so it’s all good.”

“Remus.”

“Sirius.” Why is he smiling so placidly?

“I just. What the fuck?”

“Hey, I said it’s alright, but do let me know if you figure out who’s behind it. Can’t say I’d mind giving them a good old detention. By the way, we’ve got to dash. Class starts in five.”

Sirius lets himself be led by the arm out of the greenhouse and back into the main building, where Remus pats him on the back and thanks him for listening. He only finishes counting those grains of rice later that night, alone in the darkness. A pain like he hasn’t quite felt before flits through his chest, in and out in figure eights. He doesn’t rest, occasionally coming up for air from wild dreams, frantically plotting a way of superimposing his image of Remus onto the man’s distorted own. Maybe Sirius isn’t the only one with perception issues.

He will only realise a few weeks later that Imaginary Remus stops making appearances on that day.


	10. You Are The Reason I Stay Alive 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some original characters in this one, so I hope you like it. I'm excited for Sirius's confession which will come next chapter (probably this weekend).

He needs the Marauders’ help to find out what has been done to Remus. Nothing else matters, his own guilt mustn't matter, not yet. 

Sirius hadn’t been at breakfast that morning because of seeing Marlene for a quickie, as they often did. At lunch, his friends had been too preoccupied with their Transfiguration deadline to chat in the ten minutes he had been there. It makes him feel oddly invisible, that no one had told him about the prank. Surely it was obvious how much he cared about Remus? 

He doesn't know whether to be grateful he didn't witness the prank. For all his purported numbness, he would not have been able to control himself in the face of Remus’s pain. If he thinks about it for too long, he’ll become afraid of how he would have reacted.

As soon as classes end and he gets to the common room, he makes a beeline for Frank, who is sitting on a sofa by the fireplace. “Hey Longbottom, you alright?”

“Yeah mate, come sit! Long time no speak.” Frank's tone is friendly enough but something in it is awfully sharp. 

“We spoke this morning,” retorts Sirius, feeling wrong-footed as he approaches his friend.

“You know what I mean.” Frank's gaze is more intense than usual. Okay, maybe Sirius needs to give him more credit. “So, how can I help you today?”

“Why must I need something to speak to a dear friend?” asks Sirius, flopping down on the sofa.

“Maybe because you haven’t held a proper conversation with me in over a month? Because I’m just that indispensable in making your world go around? Because you’ve been moody as fuck and not speaking to anyone since the start of the term?” This is said conversationally, but man does it hurt at Sirius’s insides. Yeah, he must give Frank more credit from now on.

“Fuck, mate, I’m sorry. I kind of didn’t think you’d care that much.” And isn’t that an understatement.

Before he can start apologising again, Frank puts him in a headlock and starts messing up his hair. “Fuck you Padfoot, I’m not sure whether to feel insulted or sorry for you. ‘Course I care, we all do. Don’t go making that decision all by yourself. You’ve been driving Prongs up the wall,” he laments, with that tough love Sirius had forgotten he adored.

He hadn’t been thinking of James’s feelings like that either, too focused on Remus, which was just another way of self-obsessing. He will ponder on this later. For now, a hot feeling of love is rising up from his throat and he feels almost sick with it. Good old Frank. He rises to kiss him, just a firm peck on the lips to manifest how full of affection he is in this moment.

“You’re right," admits Sirius, "I got too caught up in my head. I’ll make it up to you,” he promises, with a shy smile gracing his lips.

Only then does he consider the faux pas of kissing his very heterosexual male friend. However, after a moment where his eyes widen, his friend relaxes back against the sofa and slings an arm around his shoulders with an eye-roll.

“So, now tell Daddy what the matter is,” sing-songs Frank, and Sirius has to eye-roll right back.

Who knew closing up distance could be so simple? But then, if it is so easy to create it, and to destroy it, if there is no permanence, how deep can closeness ever really be?

®®®

Sirius’s mortal enemy (after his mother, his cousin Bellatrix, and Lucius Malfoy) turns out to be Hector McLeod, that fucker on the Quidditch team that James had shut down in the locker rooms for being foul about Remus. Frank’s sombre retelling says a lot about how nasty the prank had been. It seems that McLeod and some of his mates had found a way to spike Remus’s drink with a clothes vanishing potion. It was intended so that, when someone took a sip, the drink would launch itself at the drinker’s clothes which would dissolve as if consumed by fire. Apparently, so similar to fire that Remus screamed in agony, blisters instantly forming around his neck and spreading down his torso to his limbs. Before anyone could figure out what was happening or take a good look at Remus’s naked form, Dumbledore had divested himself of his robe and covered Remus’s burning body, asking Hagrid to carry him to the infirmary. Frank swore he’d seen their professor cry in pain. His friend had then managed to get the finer details from the house elves he was friendly with, some of whom worked in the infirmary. Rumour also had it that someone in Gryffindor had done it, and after a bit of digging trusty Longbottom identified their culprit. 

Throughout the retelling, Sirius keeps marvelling at the fact that Remus hadn’t even mentioned the second-degree burns, for which Madam Pomfrey fortunately had a fast-acting cure. No, he’d been too ashamed that a thousand people had seen his perceived ugliness and laughed at him. How bad must the man's body dysmorphia be to care more about the humiliation than the physical agony he had endured? From what Frank was saying, very few people found it funny and most just stared in horrified silence as Dumbledore moved quicker than anyone had ever seen him do.

Sirius’s first instinct is to gather James and Peter and make McLeod hurt as badly as Remus had. Numbness feels like a faraway memory consumed by the metal-red anger in the pit of his stomach. But then he realises that "revenge" sounds too much like performing a big romantic gestures to rescue his paramour, like slaying the dragon at the end of a quest. Is that really what Remus needs? Is that what will make McLeod stop? The goal should not be to punish the bully but to make sure he will never touch a capillary on Remus’s stupidly succulent heart ever again. And, as much as this goes against everything the Marauders stand for, only reporting it to a teacher can prevent McLeod from trying again. All eyes would be on him if he tried again.

He mustn’t tell Remus about it directly. He doesn’t want the man to have to report a crime against himself. He obviously doesn’t like bringing attention to his looks (for reasons beyond Sirius’s cognitive abilities), and having to speak about McLeod to Dumbledore would draw eyes to his beautiful, beautiful face. Sirius hopes his guess at Remus's logic will shield him from any future discomfort.

There is also the quite significant matter of Sirius’s own pranks. Could they be equated to McLeod’s? Was difference in intention enough to differentiate the acts? He will have to let Remus be judge and jury, even if it ends everything. Sirius wants nice things, amongst which is Remus Lupin, but this is a high stakes/high rewards kind of game. The confession will either make or break the precious little flower bud they have been growing together. Rather than despair, Sirius feels relief. Remus must decide for them both and his decision will be just.

®®®

It turns out he can gather intel even without Frank, although he feels guilty about the means he resorts to. There is a boy in the year below, Marex Lovegood, whose eyes have longingly followed Sirius around Hogwarts for the past two years - his own little stalker. He seems to be made of sugar and spice and everything nice and Sirius refuses to believe that someone who likes him could also like McLeod in the same frontal lobe.

He doesn’t even have to plan it. The next day, as he comes back from class, he bumps into Lovegood just as they both approach the Fat Lady from opposite ends of the corridor.

“Hey Marex. You alright?” he greets, trying to sound charming.

The expression on the boy’s face can’t be too dissimilar to Sirius’s own whenever Remus smiles. 

Sirius gives the password and patiently waits for Lovegood to follow him in. He is very cute. Cheeks made to caress, large green eyes and fluffy curls to play with. But no matter how tempting having the boy moaning beneath him is, he does not deserve any such pleasure until he redeems himself. Plus, Marex does not deserve his selfishness.

The common room is thankfully deserted. Most Gryffindors have started hanging out in the library due to Christmas deadlines approaching.

“Mate, was wondering if you have a minute?” he tries again, upon noticing Marex is still staring at him uncertainly.

Sirius thinks it might be polite to introduce himself, but then wouldn’t it be insulting to pretend the boy doesn't know his name?

Marex's cheeks stain scarlet but the look in his eyes is cautious rather than adoring. Was that how Remus had been in school whenever someone had wanted to kiss him sweet?

“Sure,” the younger boy mumbles, making a beeline to his usual sofa. Sirius follows and they plonk themselves down by the windowsill, facing each other. “How can I help you?” he asks softly, and he really is very pretty.

“Apologies for approaching you like this, when we’ve never talked, but I actually have a favour to ask you and was hoping you’d hear me out.”

At this, Marex looks like he’s steeling himself against an incoming blow. “Look, I know what you’re about to ask,” the boy starts saying, in a rush. “You’re actually really decent to talk to me like this. I’ll stop, I promise. You won’t notice me again,” he implores, large eyes pointed at Sirius.

Why is it that recently he has no control over any of the conversations he initiates?

“Err, what do you mean? What are you gonna stop?”

“You’re kidding, right? Did I just out myself?” asks Marex, now sounding a touch panicked.

Sirius thinks he knows what’s going on. Maybe his perception is alright sometimes. “I’m sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, but I guess cat’s out of the bag. Are you talking about your crush on me? Because that’s not what I came here to talk about. In fact, you’ve got balls, mate, to say so!” Sirius is trying to go for encouraging. What a bizarre conversation to have. How was he ever going to have it with Remus?

“Ugh, my best friend Alice does say that I’m a fearless kind of idiot,” replies Marex, rolling his eyes slightly at himself. “Wait, so what do you need? A favour? From me? How do you know my name anyway?”

“Well, let’s say that you did make yourself noticeable to me for the past couple of years,” says Sirius slowly, and the boy actually groans into his pink hands, “and one day your friends called out for you and I’ve remembered your name ever since. Now, I need information.”

“Of what kind?” Finally, Marex seems more curious than mortified.

“I hear you room with McLeod. Condolences, by the way.”

“Yeah, he’s…not very nice to me. Or to anyone, really, apart from his cronies.”

“Thought that might be the case. A reliable source tells me he was behind that awful prank on Professor Lupin this morning. Did you see it?”

“Ah yes, that was so awful. I really like Professor Lupin, he always gives me extra homework when I ask.” How can a boy this perfect like him? “I did hear McLeod and O’Sullivan talk about some kind of potion recipe they had found in a family book, but I didn’t think much of it. I guess it could have been them, but they never actually talk to me.”

“That’s great! Do you know if by any chance they could be keeping that recipe somewhere in the dorm? We need proof.”

Marex newly places his large green eyes on Sirius’s face, at first to contemplate the request, and then for the aesthetic pleasure of it a few seconds longer. “I tell you what, I know for a fact they’re in the library at the moment. Let me go have a look!”

Before Sirius can even reply, the boy has dashed for his stairwell. Sirius spends about three minutes re-evaluating his life choices before Marex makes his way towards him again. Lovely legs.

“It’s in the box under his bed, second from the right. That’s where he keeps all his contraband, he’s got some kind of spell on it to make it difficult to see if you don’t know it’s there. It’s brown and about ye big. There’s even annotations on the bookmarked page and everything. He’s an idiot kind of smart,” he finishes explaining, sounding like someone who just answered a trick question correctly in class.

“Wow. Things don’t usually go so smoothly for me,” marvels Sirius out loud, “I don’t even know how to repay you.”

“Well…” Marex actually starts tapping his finger against his pink chin. “I can think of a few things. Don’t you want to take advantage?”

He asks this softly, innocent eyes staring Sirius down. It takes him so much by surprise he giggles. Who knew that the boy he thought of as a shy, silent presence is actually this sassy angel.

“You’re very cute, don’t think I don’t want to. There is an alternative universe where you ask for a reward for helping me out and I go down on my knees to thank you, but alas that universe is not this one. My heart is in pursuit of another,” explains Sirius, satisfied with the veracity of his own words.

Marex’s reaction is adorable to watch. “I don’t even know how to process that sentence.”

“I’m sure you’ll get there one day. I’ve only just gotten there myself, mate.” Sirius makes to stand up, still pondering how he can repay the debt. Money is too Black of an option.

“Wait! I do have a request.”

When Marex doesn’t continue, he nods at the beautiful boy with an encouraging smile. 

“It’s stupid.”

That blush is truly gorgeous, why did Sirius suddenly develop a code of conduct?

“Even better!” he replies, with a wider grin.

“Can I… oh fuck it, can I comb your hair just once? That’s not emotional betrayal to your crush, right?”

This is said so fast, Sirius is stumped for a few seconds trying to process the request. Then again, everyone loved playing with his hair, even people who were not attracted to him.

“You should be a politician, mate, that’s some good negotiation. My hair, huh? You’ve got it. If your story checks out, you’ll get to play with my hair tomorrow right here in the Common Room where everyone can see, and no funny business!” proclaims Sirius, in a caricature of Professor McGonagall, which makes a laugh escape out of the boy's plush lips. 

“Deal,” confirms Marex, with a shaky little exhale. His smile really is just the most appetising thing. “Oh, and Sirius? I hope it works out with the person you like,” he ends, softly but with disarming sincerity.

“Thank you, Marex. So do I.” 

Saying their goodbyes, he does not tell the boy he could be doing much better than Sirius because Merlin knows people cannot choose.

Walking up to his dorm, he thinks about what he must do tomorrow. Tomorrow, his time with Remus will potentially come to a soul-ripping end - if he thinks about it too hard he will shatter. Instead, he must focus on the mission at hand: writing a letter to Minnie, his trusty liege, to bring McLeod (and himself) to justice.


	11. You Are The Reason I Stay Alive 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius's confession.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has subscribed =-)

Meditation, that’s what it’s called! Sirius had read about it tangentially once. He finds Remus sitting on/in/as a potted plant in a huge vase at the centre of the greenhouse. Surely the herbology professor had put it there specifically to turn him into living art. Light beams caress his face, turning his scars translucent. He is devastatingly beautiful and Sirius is about to make everything ugly.

He walks up to the person he has dedicated unforgettable moments of his life to, even if only in private, and makes his presence known. He waits quietly, letting Remus’s fuzzy gaze focus on him, treasuring the slow-motion appearance of a sun-kissed smile.

Deep breath. “Can we talk?” Sirius is so nervous the words just spill unattractively out of his mouth. “You might want to unpot yourself, don’t want to give your spot bad vibes or anything. In fact, let’s leave the greenhouse. Come for a walk with me?”

Remus’s expression is confused but not wary. “Sure thing, let’s head to the pond. It’s quieter than the lake.” He gracefully unpots himself and leads the way out of their safe place.

The older man is still smiling as they walk, head upturned towards the sun as he leads the way off the path and through a small thicket of pine trees. He even touches branches and strokes leaves on the way, as if talking to the forest around him. The boy doesn’t know whether it’s a good thing that he found Remus on such a lucid day.

As they reach the creek and a tiny pond to the side of it, Remus plops himself down against a big tree and forcefully digs his long fingers into the earth with a sigh. Sirius has never been more violently jealous before, and of soil of all things. He sits down beneath the same tree.

“You gonna tell me what’s up?” His smile is still unguarded, and Sirius feels like a villain. It’s obvious he doesn't even suspect Sirius's infatuation; It is completely different from the interaction between himself and Marex. This is a man who wants to be seen as a sexless, crotchless robot and Sirius has been defiling him with metaphorical tacky lingerie and writings with permanent marker.

“I caught your prankster. Gave some proof to Professor McGonagall, saw her marching him out of the common room like a prisoner just a few minutes ago.”

“Oh my god, did you really? Who was it?” Remus appears as a boy who has been told he can have an extra slice of lemon meringue pie, and Sirius wants to devour the happiness off him. 

“Hector McLeod was the ringleader, it was a group of shitheads from my house for once. He’s vile.”

“Isn’t he a batter for Gryffindor?”

“Yeah, that’s the dickhead. I so badly wanted to do worse, but I know McGonagall will take care of it and I didn’t want you to have any further problems.”

“Sirius. That’s lovely, exactly what I would’ve wanted.” At any other moment, the praise would’ve sent him soaring, but then Remus frowns in confusion. “Although, speaking as his teacher, I don’t consider him or his friends skilled enough for either the trick with the chalk or with the Quidditch balls. Huh, guess they know how to apply themselves when they want to.”

Deeper breath. “Remus, that’s exactly what I wanted to talk to you about. McLeod and his gang were only responsible for what happened in the Great Hall.”

Remus seems to ponder this for a long second. “Well, that makes more sense. One of those three things did not feel like the others.”

“It didn’t?” asks Sirius, an ambiguous hope blooming in his throat.

“The thing in the Great Hall, it actually made me want to quit my job. It wasn’t just a prank at my, a teacher’s, expense. And it wasn’t some bizarre courting signal. It was meant to show me my place. It’s easy to forget how cruel people can be when you’ve got friends like mine constantly building me up.”

Time to make that seeker’s dive. “Remus, I’m so sorry.”

“Sirius?”

“It was me. The chalk and the levitating heart were me. But I had no idea you felt this way, I promise! I thought they might please you. You looked a bit pleased, or at least amused. If you think I deserve the same punishment as McLeod, I’ll go to McGonagall myself, just say the word.” Sirius is staring so hard at the shiny pond that its surface starts fracturing into a million little pieces. His hearing is static.

Instead of hexing him on the spot as expected, he feels Remus turn his eyes back to the clouds above, sunlight now painting his scars golden. Sirius feels surprisingly calm, allowing this man to choose his fate, and so he also turns his gaze up to the sky and soaks in its beauty for the few precious moments before everything shatters.

He almost jumps when Remus speaks again. “Do you regret it? Did you get to know me and realise humiliating your teacher was not a good hobby?” His voice is monotone, just like Professor Lupin’s lectures. Sirius never wants to hear that lack of emotion again.

“I regret it, but it’s not what you think. I regret hurting you, and I wish I could say it’s the worst thing I’ve ever done, but it isn’t.” He doesn’t have enough lung capacity to breathe in some more courage. “But Remus, that’s not how the story goes.” He rests his head back against the large tree trunk, its ancient structure supporting Sirius through his next words. “I just wanted to impress you, I guess. I just, you must’ve noticed me staring in class, right? I was sure you did. I’ve been sure you were going to bring it up the last few weeks we’ve been hanging out. I just, I saw you that first day in class and I wanted you and I wanted to impress you. I didn’t expect we’d become something like friends, at least to me. Not that I didn’t want to, I want this more than I want whatever it was I thought I wanted when I did those stupid pranks, but you have to believe me: I really didn’t think much further than letting you know someone was interested in you. I guess it’s fair to say I just wanted to see how you would react. Turns out you’re a very good actor. Or maybe I’m a very bad spectator. I really am sorry.”

“Wait a minute, you said a lot there,” and the confusion in Remus’s voice is enough of an emotion to comfort Sirius’s heart. “I must confirm: are you saying that you fancy me?” At the disbelief, Sirius forces his eyes open. Remus hasn’t moved, is still only just half a foot away, resting against the same ancient being who will still be here long after they are gone. The thought grounds him in the present.

“Sure, let’s say I’m saying that. Do you want me to go?” he asks, as a litany of _don’t make me go don’t make me go_ crowds his vision.

“No, I want you to stay right there while I process," says Remus, firmly. "You know, I did fleetingly think that might be the case, once or twice, I’m not completely oblivious. But I just assumed it was because you wanted to talk to me? I wanted to talk to you. It’s like, you know when you meet someone and you feel like there’s a connection there but you haven’t found out what it is yet? Some kind of worldview that filters into someone’s daily speech and mannerisms and you pick it out? I thought you understood that and I’ve enjoyed our chats. I didn’t think you’d frame it as…what, infatuation?” He says it like he’s trying to taste it for poison on his tongue and Sirius is focusing all of his attention on keeping his hope contained in his skin.

“I’m sorry if you think it childish. But some of the things I want can hardly be considered such and you overestimate me if you think I had such pure thoughts about spending time with you.”

At Remus’s stunned silence, Sirius feels the urge to keep digging his own grave. “When you said you thought you were ugly, I couldn’t believe it. I really couldn’t. I don’t know what’s wrong with McLeod’s sight either, but you’re all wrong. I’ll fight anyone who doesn’t think you’re the most beautiful person they’ve ever seen. And yeah, I’m not oblivious either, I think I understand why you didn’t want to talk about your body dysmorphia with me. I know people seem to think I’m the shit but I’m really not. I mean, what do I matter next to you?" He sighs at the light-headness of confessing. "Sorry for rambling. I just want you to know to what extent I broke your trust, I guess. So you can decide properly.”

This makes Remus turn fully towards him and the eye-contact is a shock to the system. “Decide what?”

“Whether I should be allowed to speak to you again,” he forces out. 

Remus’s next words are accompanied by a disbelieving smile. “Sirius, you’re making it hard to believe that you only want me because of some kind of bizarre scar fetish or whatever you think I’ve got going on. I’m not going to question my judgement. I think there is something between us, and I think you would enjoy spending time with me even if I was an old ghost hunting the castle. I’m not very good with my body but I am good with who I am as a person and I think we’d both be sad if we never spoke again. “

The hope is spilling out from every one of his pores and he tries to clench his muscles to keep it in but his whole being is flooded with it, with Remus’s forgiveness. “You’re actually fucking serious, aren’t you? Just like that?” He cannot believe his ears. He is never going to make an assumption about another living being again.

“Sure, just like that. Plus, your pranks were a bit funny. You’ve never knowingly done anything that made me uncomfortable and I don’t see any reason why you should start now. Do you?”

“No. Never.” He should get that vow tattooed. Or get Remus to carve it into his skin.

“Then let’s just carry on as normal. Not gonna lie, I do still need to process, and we may have to talk about it again, but please don’t start avoiding me. That would be really quite sad.”

“You’re amazing. I wish I could hug you right now,” he lets escape, to immediately regret.

“That’s maybe not such a good idea.” He sees Sirius’s face contort and continues: “It’s not you, I just find physical touch difficult sometimes.”

“Of course, no, I’m sorry for asking.” Nothing like him and Marex at all.

Remus smiles, sighing in mock exasperation. “Let’s do this: tomorrow, 1pm, meet you in the greenhouse. I’ll bring lunch. My mam is sending me somewhat of a care package and I’ve been promised lots of treats. We can chat.” The echo of that first offer of friendship is enough to bring tears of love to Sirius’s eyes.

“You really…? I just…yeah! Of course, one o’clock. I’ll be there.” He stands, looking wonderingly at Remus who follows him up, looking amused and slightly bewildered.

“Let’s get out of here, c’mon.”

Sirius walks a few steps behind the man of his dreams through the enchanted forest, mind blank and body following. As Remus turns a smile towards him and waves goodbye, Sirius haphazardly piles up the events of the last few months and lets them topple over into nothingness.

®®®

There is one last thing he needs to do on this pivotal day. With only the slightest hesitation, Sirius prances into the common room and sets sight on his target. Big green eyes, legs for days, and an unconventional sense of propriety. To fulfil his promise, he jumps gracefully onto the sofa, head falling into the lap of one surprised Marex Lovegood.

“Sirius Black!” exclaim Marex and the blonde friend he is sitting with. The use of his full name makes him laugh in a way he knows is irresistible. Funnily enough, he has never seriously tried to use his tricks on Remus. He wants the man to like who he is, not what he looks like, and he is proud at himself for sticking to that resolution.

“Now kids, I know I’m a household name but just Sirius will do. I came to issue your repayment, Mr Lovegood.” And with that, he pulls out his own silver comb from his robes and places it in the lax-with-shock palm of his admirer.

“Alright Alice,” says Marex with a manic smile, “you’re gonna have to pay up. I told you I wasn’t bullshitting you.”

With a put-upon sigh, the blonde pulls out a handful of chocolate frogs from her messenger bag and aggressively throws them in his and Marex’s direction. One falls in his lap and he doesn’t delay in opening it. Good old Dumbledore!

It takes a moment for Marex to gather the courage to start combing, and it is a bit satisfying when the younger boy gasps in pleasure at the softness. A few minutes later, both Alice and Marex are cracking up at Sirius’s newfound charisma and it’s like his body has only just understood that he has been forgiven. Forgiven! The endorphins are flowing and it feels good to make people around him smile again. He must find a way to make James smile again.

At one point, Alice gets called over by some of her other friends and he and Marex are left alone. His hair is neater than it’s ever been, but they are both content enough as they are – he starts feeling more and more sleepy, adrenaline leaving his body.

“You know, I never thought I’d speak to you,” says Marex, breaking the silence.

“Never?”

“I thought you’d surely turn out to be a dickhead or graduate before I worked up the courage.”

“Well, I’m happy we ended up speaking. You’re cool. Although I could still turn out to be a dickhead,” he says, with his best fuckboy smile.

“I’m glad we spoke too. I’m well on my way to getting over you now.”

“Woah, you move on quick!” exclaims Sirius, in mock hurt.

“Sorry, sorry,” coos Marex, trying to give him pacifying scratches with his fingernails. Fuck, that feels good. Sirius feels like he’s sinking into the sofa. “You’re just a bit different from what I imagined, you know?”

“Different how?” he asks, with curiosity.

Marex seems stumped for a long moment, but eventually hazards: “I don’t know, I don’t know what I thought you were like. I guess you weren’t a real person in my head before, just a mixture of things I wanted you to be in the body of a male model?”

Sirius nods solemnly at this, happy to hear he isn’t the only one who had done some self-serving projecting onto his crush. “I know exactly what you mean. I did the same to the person I love, but unlike you, now that I’ve gotten to know them they are a hundred times more dreamy than before!” He sticks his tongue out childishly, although he is relieved to hear Marex is no longer fixating on his hopeless self. 

They banter back and forth a bit longer, Sirius pretending to be hurt at Marex’s fickleness and the younger boy showing his true colours with increasingly sassy retorts. He’d forgotten he could feel so light.

When he finally goes to crash on his bed, he shuts his curtains as he's taken to doing before the others join him in the dorm. Scalp tingling pleasantly, he wonders what it means that his feelings for Remus did not recalibrate into something less sharp and desperate once they started talking. Surely Marex’s experience was the most common? A silly part of him concludes this means they should live happily ever after, but he painfully reminds himself that the most important thing going forward is what Remus wants.

He lets himself drift imagining the myriad ways tomorrow’s picnic could go and, whether the fantasy is requited love confessions or a harsh scolding, Sirius’s body strains to be there already, in the presence of the person who has succeeded in annihilating his numbness.

As the tingling in his scalp vanishes, he digs his fingers into the skin until it almost rips, pleasure bursting behind his eyes as he imagines longer, scarred fingers in place of his own.


	12. My Whole Existence is Flawed 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will be 100% WolfStar. We will then proceed into some murky ProngsFoot territory and sort James out!

With Christmas approaching, the whole school is torn between festive excitement and self-immolation due to coursework deadlines. Even Sirius has decided to apply himself; it would be silly not to graduate with top marks even if he doesn’t know who to become when he grows up. It is almost easy to focus on revision now that Imaginary Remus has disappeared. It’s like a whole floor of space has freed up in his brain and his vision isn’t so foggy anymore.

He still isn’t quite sure what he’s been saying to his friends beyond good mornings and goodnights, and he does still lose time every once in a while, but everyone has stopped sending him worried glances. He doesn’t know if it’s because he’s acting more normal or if it’s because they’ve stopped caring. Marlene has tried bringing up his air-headedness a few times, but any explanations for his behaviour, no matter how fantastical, gets stuck in his throat.

On a positive note, his efforts towards his brother seem to be paying off. They have yet to speak again, but when they bump into each other there is an unmistakeable nod of acknowledgement from Regulus that makes Sirius giddy for hours afterwards. Perhaps he's been reading the little green book. 

As for Remus, they did end up having that picnic. He had thought his professor might appear to him in a different light, different colours and textures making up his form - but it is Sirius who has changed and Remus remains the charming man that makes his heart skip a few beats.

Hope Lupin, Remus's mother, turns out to be a saint with a magic touch in the kitchen. She is a Muggle who moved back to her hometown in Wales ever since divorcing Remus’s dad, and that quickly went on the list of topics they do not touch. Nonetheless, Sirius couldn't be happier that they do not share parental abuse as an ingredient that makes them up. They also ended up talking about the pranks, but, as usual, the conversation did not quite go according to Sirius’s script. 

®®®

Remus lights up a joint with his golden lighter while Sirius fixates on the sight (there goes another object he is irrationally jealous of, always warm in that corduroy pocket suffused with Remus’s essence) and asks: “What spell did you use?”

“Pardon?” startles Sirius, tearing his eyes away from the erotic sight of Remus’s hands near his plush mouth.

“To make the quidditch balls levitate, what type of spell did you use?” The man is laying on a bench in the greenhouse, fully sated by his mother’s cooking, and Sirius lies the other way round on the opposing bench, trying desperately to make his own sprawl half as appealing as Remus’s.

“Ah, it’s something my father taught me from the family library. It helps you manipulate the layer of atoms in the air surrounding the object you want to move. Practiced it a lot one summer.”

“How old were you?”

“Maybe twelve, thirteen? My parents were big on wandless magic.”

“You do know how impressive that is, right?”

In any other context, Sirius would’ve taken the compliment. But Remus said they had a connection, right? Some kind of reason why it was okay for them to let out their true selves when together? Maybe even that they were incapable of hiding their true selves to each other?

“I do, but I’m not grateful for why I’m capable of doing a lot of the magic I know.”

Remus nods, happy to let that line of questioning end there. 

“I cannot believe you were doing wandless magic in my class and I didn’t even notice. I guess I was too distracted by everyone laughing and trying to save face.”

“Again, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t really thinking about the rest of the class.”

“It’s alright, you’ve apologised plenty. I’ve told you before, I’m not much for grovelling. Oh, by the way, I feel like I should give you The Speech.”

“What speech?” asks Sirius, sitting up a bit straighter against the wooden armrest. Remus remains entirely relaxed, slender neck exposed at an angle as he stares up at the greenhouse’s ceiling.

“Oh, you know, the one where I tell you that nothing can happen between us. Firstly, because I have no interest in minors; secondly, because I am in a position of authority over you and no relationship should be negotiated on unequal power dynamics. God, does that lingo give me away? Anyway - you will grow up and meet a myriad other people more suitable than me and I’ll become a rose-tinted school memory. Then there’s the bit about how you need someone your age, blah blah blah etcetera. You know, the speech you could probably give yourself.”

“When you say you feel like you _should_ give me the speech, does it mean you don’t _want_ to give me the speech?” taunts Sirius, with a tentative smirk.

“Hah, nice try. No, I just think you’re perfectly aware of all the reasons why you and I cannot be star-crossed lovers if your infatuation were to last any longer than it already has.”

The denial of his feelings hurts, but Sirius must remind himself that the other man cannot dig around inside his brain for the truth, as much as Sirius thinks it should be possible.

“I don’t see how it could ever go away. But I suppose I am aware of The Speech. I’ve been trying to ignore it with all the teenage stubbornness I can muster.”

This gets a small smile out of the teacher. “I still feel like you’re trolling me, but I know you never would. Well, as long as we’ve got that cleared up, neither of us has to worry about it,” he concludes, dismissively.

The boy decides to push his luck. “So can I continue being infatuated so long as I’m not worrying about it?”

“You’re good at picking apart my words today, aren’t you?”

“Honestly, I know it’s not fair but part of me wants permission?”

“Permission for what, exactly? Wanking over my perfect body?”

And that makes something in him freeze over. “Please stop talking about yourself like that.” He sounds sharper than he means to. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“And you do, huh?” retorts Remus, almost sneering, and it’s the most unkind he’s ever heard him. But he immediately follows it up with an apologetic smile which Sirius accepts with a nod.

“You simply cannot be objective, Mssr. Lupin. You must not have a good eye for art.”

“Oh, is that what this is, Mssr. Padfoot? Aesthetic appreciation?” Not even in Sirius’s wildest dreams had Remus _teased_ him about wanking over him.

“Why can you believe I might want to fuck you but not that I think you’re beautiful?”

“That way around, huh?” wonders Remus out loud, gaze now fixed back up to the sky. His body is rigid and Sirius knows that he’s uncomfortable but dammit, why won’t he understand?

“Well no, quite the opposite. But ‘might want you to fuck me into the ground’ seemed grammatically gauche.”

Remus laughs despite himself. “Wow, you are posh."

“Oh fuck you. Or fuck me, as we’ve established. I didn’t know you could be such a little shit.”

The next moment they are both laughing up to the sky, but Remus is still pensive.

“You know, Sirius, I’m pretty good at acting. I am admittedly still uncomfortable at the idea of anyone thinking about the way I look, whether positively or negatively. I get freaked out that I’m disappointing my friends, my colleagues, even my bloody parents, because of the way I look – it’s irrational and that's just the tip of the iceberg. Just saying, if you want to make me feel beautiful, you’ve got your work cut out for you.”

Sirius is not sure he can deal with the harrowing statement, so he saves it for a cry later. “I want to say something else, push further, but I’m not sure I should.”

“Well, you can’t shock me, I’ve heard it all,” says Remus, waving a hand in permission and settling his amber gaze on the boy. He is sitting up straighter, ready to leave at any moment. Sirius cannot let that happen.

“I’d just like to know,” he pleads. He is also sitting up straighter, body ready to chase Remus down if need be. “You didn’t seem too convinced by the We Shouldn’t Do This speech. But it’s also clear your biggest take away from me asking you to ravish me is that you’re being scrutinised and you don’t like that. So, uhm, don’t worry, I get it that I’m not tempting you at all.” He tries to say this without his voice wobbling. “But I’d still like to know – why can’t we live happily ever after? If the age difference and you being my teacher and propriety are classified as ‘blah blah blah etcetera’ in your book?”

Remus takes in a deep breath, still gazing intently at him, looking deep, through, and Sirius cannot help letting out a pleasured sigh at the dissection. 

“You want me to be brutally honest?”

“Please.”

“The problem is you, Sirius. You’re very beautiful, and I understand this on a theoretical level, but it is impossible for me to feel sexual attraction towards someone your age. Perhaps you’ll understand in a few years. Even for a twenty year-old, a seventeen year-old is like a different species. It’s the lived experience, not the number. And sure, some men get off on it and if everyone gives informed consent I don’t have any blanket objections to it. You certainly don’t seem a stranger to sex. I just will never feel attracted to a student. And that’s not because I shouldn’t, but because my brain won’t.”

He lets this soak in the mush of his brain for a while. “Makes sense.” Remus obviously thinks that is the end of it, but Sirius is far from done. “But I’m in it for the long-term. What happens when I’m twenty-one and you’re thirty-one? When I’m thirty and you’re forty? What will be the reason then?”

“You’re very optimistic if you think whatever you’re feeling can last that long.”

“Realistic, and you’re avoiding the question.”

“Jesus, what is this, the Spanish Inquisition?”

“The what?”

“A Muggle history thing. You should learn some Muggle history, they don’t teach enough here, it’s ridiculous. As if we’ve always been separate. Anyway! You really want to hear it? It’s just more reasons why it’s you, not me.” And it feels like he's being teased again. 

Sirius is adoring this version of Remus, and the authenticity of the moment is enough to make up for all the rest of it. “I’m braced for impact.”

“You sure you’re not a masochist?”

“I’m pretty sure I am, actually. Physically, not mentally,” he states, simply. 

He’s pretty sure he sees Remus blush. “Oh-kay, we are parking that thought for as long as we live. Forgive me for asking, Jesus. Pretty sure I could get fired for having this conversation,” he laments, giving away he’s bemused with an eye roll.

“But you don’t care, do you?” asks the boy, searching for an admission. 

“No, I don’t," he replies, and Sirius loves him. 

How can one go from being numb to going woozy with joy? “Now, c’mon, crush me more. Tell me all the reasons why you don’t want me. What happened to us having a connection? You just knowing there was something about me when we met?”

“Mate, that doesn’t mean you’re my soulmate,” says Remus, kindly. “As I said, it’s happened to me before. With my friends Lily and Severine, some other people I don’t speak to as often but I know would give their lives for mine. It’s not romantic. Also, off-topic, but I can’t believe you used the word ‘ravish’, have you been reading risqué Victorian novels?” asks Remus, and he sounds appalled. 

“Oh shut up, I don’t like you at all.”

For a while, they just resume passing the joint back and forth. The quiet of the greenhouse gives them both space to think. How can being together be so easy if their feelings are so at odds with each other?

Eventually, Sirius’s thoughts become too loud and he tries to contain himself until he remembers he does not have to. “So, in summary! I have the romantic potential of a grasshopper, no sex appeal, and you do feel a connection to me but I’m a dime a dozen.”

“God, I sound like such a dick,” groans Remus, covering his face with his free hand. 

“A very attractive one, yes. Plus, I love the sound of your voice.”

“My voice? My Welsh voice?” he asks, sniggering.

“Yeah, shut up, your voice. Stop judging my taste.” Who knew this vulnerable honesty would feel so fucking good?

“Sorry, I don’t mean to make fun of you. You just remind me that my body image must be really fucked up. I guess part of me doesn’t like that I’m not the foremost expert on Remus John Lupin.”

“And now I know your middle name! We’re close to meeting all the prerequisites to getting married.”

“Only if you take my surname, yours is awful,” jokes Remus, face scrunching up at the come back a second later. But Sirius understands, he really does, and so he will not betray how much the joke aches.

“With pleasure, mine is indeed poisonous.” The boy worries he has soured the mood, so is surprised at what comes next. 

“Sirius, you know you can say you’re uncomfortable too, right? I wouldn’t want the way I’m behaving to be perceived as flirting or leading you on. I don’t perceive you as a threat and I like you, which means I’m this relaxed around you. But, you know you can stop coming to hang out with me, right? It’s a two-way street and perhaps I shouldn’t have insisted on you having a picnic with me.”

The boy tries to give him his best unimpressed look. “I can’t believe you heard me suggesting we get married and arrived at that conclusion. Listen, me being a little in love with you aside, I had a think about what you were saying and I do see what you mean about a connection or a shared worldview or just being on the same wavelength, I guess. So can we just stop being so fucking polite with each other, so hesitant? Can we just hang out and assume everyone is comfortable unless we say so?”

Remus looks almost…impressed. “That’s exactly what I want as well.”

“Great.”

“Great.”

They look at each other a moment longer, and Sirius tries to convey with all his might that just being together, in any capacity, is enough. In time, Remus fully relaxes back into his sprawl, and they stay like that, chatting and smoking, until the end of lunch. The sun is shining and so is Sirius’s heart. He understands, or he thinks he understands, and he will do everything in his power to keep himself and Remus on the same wavelength. He will aim to bring their points of view closer and closer to each other until they clash and kiss and melt and merge. 


	13. My Whole Existence is Flawed 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little Remus POV at the end!

Their greenhouse dates continue. Whenever Sirius glances over at Remus and sees how relaxed he is in his presence, a curdle of pride never fails to erupt in his chest. But, as much as he would like his whole universe to be made up of Remus Lupin, he can’t help thinking of what it will be like to go home to the Potters in a couple of weeks.

Sirius had naively thought his foggy days were behind him. Apparently, deep life revelations and good intentions are not fool-proof cures for dodgy brains. The situation with James is affecting him more than he dares to admit. And why shouldn’t he admit it? He is fucked up over being en route to losing his best friend, he should be shouting it from the rooftops! Is this toxic masculinity? Pride? Nah, fuck that, he is going to ask for Remus’s advice and put a stop to the drift. He needs James and he doesn't care who knows about it.

Except that he has less guts than he gives himself credit for and he must thank Remus for steering the conversation in the right direction.

“Tell me about your friends. They seem like a pretty good support system,” he gets asked, almost carefully, when Sirius mentions the continued fogginess.

“I love them. Well, I definitely love James, Frank is really cool, and Pete is alright sometimes. It’s just, it’s like I’ve forgotten how to talk to them lately. My memory tells me that we used to be so close, but what if it weren’t? What if the memory is wrong and now I’m just realising how different we all are? Isn’t that the cliché of adolescence?”

“Hmm. Compelling point, except that you sound like you really care so I do not see why they wouldn’t as well. What about James, though? You can’t tell me that kid doesn’t care about you.”

Sirius suddenly feels very guilty for putting those words in Remus’s mouth. James _does not_ deserve that.

“It’s my fault. Things have not been the same since summer break at the Potters’. I came onto him and made things awkward. Now we will touch in public like before but the moment we are alone it’s like we’re poster boys for ‘no homo’ bro-dudes. I tried not thinking about it too hard because when we’re with the others it feels so good, you know? Having him close.”

Remus glances at him then, a question mark, but decides to ask a different question. “When you came onto him, what made it awkward? Was he not into it?” How did he make it look so seamless, talking about messy things? Is that what adulthood would grant him one day?

“Err, well. He said yes and everything was amazing, best moment of my life. We kissed for ages and then I, uhm…” Sirius hesitates and blushes, but not for the reason the professor may think. He is blushing because he is hoping that talking about himself having sex with a boy will make Remus see him in a sexual light. He tries to sit up straighter, adjust his robes to show more skin.

“Sirius, trust me, whatever it is you’re about to say won’t shock me. We’ve crossed that line already.” And nope, seduction here just won’t work. Remus is solely focused on helping him, it’s obvious from his tone, and why can’t he just fucking be satisfied with that? After all, who else would be so bloody kind to him?

“Right. So, we were making out and kind of hugging and it felt so good, he’s like a part of me, you know? Best friend since we were eleven. And Led Zeppelin was playing and he smelt so good and I felt so safe and I thought this would be the first of many times, you know? Like, how could it feel so good for me if it didn’t feel good for him? And then I went down on him and he seemed to enjoy it, he certainly showed no hesitation. And I fucking loved it, it’s so different with a cock, I was kind of shocked. And then he came, which made me come, and I was just floating in outer space. It felt so peaceful out there, and it felt like we were the only two people in the world. And then he just fucking ripped the floor out from under me when he told me he did not want it to happen again, it just ‘wasn’t his thing’ or something. And I was pissed for like two hours but obviously I can’t stay angry at him because he’s my family and eventually we just started pretending it never happened. Except that we obviously don’t, because he doesn’t cuddle me anymore or sleep in the same bed as me and I don’t feel comfortable initiating anything like that, because what if I now creep him out?” he asks, almost angrily, before sighing. “So yeah, it’s a bloody mess.”

“What are teenagers on these days? I couldn’t even say the word ‘cock’ at your age.”

“What can I say, I’m advanced,” he retorts, and boy is he pleased that Remus allows him to speak uncensored. They must really be friends.

“Okay, wait, let me think” he says, but then continues without a pause: “To me it sounds like you both may be missing some vital piece of information, making assumptions about the other, which is so teenage boy by the way, and if you just talked it out you could easily figure out where you stand. It seems like physical intimacy has always been a major component of your friendship and it’s very important to you. You are right in saying that if it felt so good to you, there is probably something to that. As in, I doubt you spent six years behaving in a certain way with each other without him being into it - you built the codes of your relationship together, after all. So yeah, boring advice, but have you tried talking to the kid?” Remus asks, sounding almost exasperated when it appears to be that simple. 

“This may surprise you, but I haven’t because I’m an idiot. And my brain has been an absolute mess and I miss him so much and I’m fucking terrified he’s going to tell me it was always me being too clingy. After all, it’s always me who has needed him, you know? Because of my family, and having nightmares, or just being a bit of a train wreck. He’s never needed me to comfort him in return.”

“You don’t know that. James may just have a self-sacrificing personality or loves being needed, it’s not that uncommon. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t need you or that he doesn’t want to be closer to you. Talk to him, Sirius. And if it goes badly, you can talk to me afterwards and we’ll come up with a recovery plan.”

Be still, my beating heart. “Have I told you how much I like you?” It suddenly seems so important that Remus understands.

“Yeah, so you said,” is the calm reply, and maybe it really is enough to be acknowledged. 

But the conversation has flayed him open enough, and he doesn't want to peel his skin back any further when he still hasn't figured out how to sew it together again. 

“Out of curiosity, are you and Professor Snape friends?” He promises himself this is not asked out of jealousy.

“Hmm? Yeah, her and her partner are my best friends. We met at Hogwarts, actually.”

Yep, that is not relief he feels. “Ooh, what’s her partner like?”

“Her name is Lily. She’s beautiful and fiery and has just become a junior doctor at St Mungo’s.”

Sirius tries to picture her, but he does not know enough beautiful adults to draw up an image. “I can’t really imagine Professor Snape being all lovey-dovey with someone, though.” For that matter, he cannot imagine what love would look like on Remus either, but that may truly be pushing too far.

“It is a very heart-warming sight, I can tell you that," the older man replies, smiling at the thought. Sirius wants to be that uncomplicatedly happy for his friends' happiness too. 

“So why do you and Snape not spend lunch times together?”

“Severine spends all her free time talking to Lily while she’s also on lunch break. They are surprisingly intense given how unromantic they both seem at first glance.”

“That’s nice, being that desperate,” says Sirius, off-handedly. 

Remus turns on his bench, almost too quickly, and suddenly he is being given an indecipherable look. “I don’t know, is it? To be so dependent on another person?” he asks, and there is true wonder in his tone.

“I’ve never dated anyone, so I don’t know, but if I were in a relationship, I’d want to need them like a fish needs water. Even if they don’t need me as much, it might be better, in a fucked up way. Every time they pay attention to me it would feel like a reward.”

He doesn't expect Remus to go quiet at that. He thought they were past the awkward moments when Sirius let on how pathetic his longing is. 

“You know,” he starts, slowly, with a sharp look, “Muggles call that co-dependence. It’s unhealthy to be so emotionally dependent on someone who only gives you scraps and treats you like shit because they know you’ll come back for more.”

Sirius feels incredibly young for thinking scraps sound brilliant if not excessive.

“Maybe it’s naïve of me, but I’m not sure I would care so long as I was happy and felt cared for. Perhaps even if it was a lie.” He is not satisfied with this statement, it does not ring as undeniably authentic as other confessions he has made to Remus, but he lacks a better truth for the time being. 

Remus seems to sense the lack of conviction, because the tension in his shoulders releases. His tone turns teasing again. “You’re a bit of an oddball, aren’t you?”

“You’ve only just noticed?”

“A precocious subby oddball who has no idea what they want.”

“I’m going to pretend your tone was fond instead of patronising.”

“And I’m going to pretend I know nothing about my student’s dreams of being a 1950s housewife.”

“You’re a dick.”

“Apparently you like it.”

“I like you, haven’t met your dick yet.”

Remus thinks of giving a token protest, but eventually just sighs and lets it go. He selfishly wants things to carry on as they are. It is indeed inconvenient that Sirius feels this way about him, but it is so cliché in every school. A new teacher comes who is below forty and not completely repulsive and suddenly students think he’s in their pool of eligibles. Up until they enter the real world and realise that the poor sod only seemed appealing in comparison to Flitwick, Slughorn, and Filch. Although Remus would choose Hagrid for a one-night stand, if anyone were to ask him.

No, he wishes to let it go and stop protesting because he is lonely living at Hogwarts, and he likes talking to Sirius – he loves it. The boy is, as he’d suspected, everything he hadn’t been at that age. Reckless with his emotions, with who he takes to bed, with defying authority, with his brave vulnerability. Remus, on the other hand, had only gotten the stick out of his ass once he’d hit university.

He likes their lunches, and their banter, and the fact that around Sirius he never feels ugly. He categorically does not feel beautiful, but the usual cloying shame is notably absent. He generally only has a handful of minutes a day to feel neutral about himself, before the repulsion returns. But Sirius has gifted him with whole mountains of minutes where he is just Remus; where it doesn’t matter if he’s compulsively spent an hour picking his scars that morning, or if he can feel the wolf trying to expel him from his own body. Being with Sirius is easy, and he selfishly wants to keep it that way, the boy’s feelings be damned. He had said so himself, hadn’t he? Had some kind of topsy-turvy preference for unrequited love with scraps as his consolation prize. Remus will just have to keep an eye on his own behaviour, set boundaries, and make sure he is treating the boy right. 

Make sure Sirius never discovers his most shameful secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is the scene that started the whole fic. Go look at the boggart scene from the third movie on YouTube if you want to get a better idea before I post.


	14. My Whole Existence is Flawed 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been a \rough\ week emotionally and each of your comments has been a boost of self-assurance I couldn't have done without.
> 
> Btw, if you haven't yet, I recommend you go listen to 'Closer' by Nine Inch Nails because it is truly the anthem of this fic and I listen to it whenever I need inspiration.
> 
> P.S. if any of you noticed, sorry I had to delete the chapter and re-post it, I fucked up the publishing date.

Things have gotten slightly better with Frank and James ever since his unloading of feelings onto Remus. Now that he and his professor are truly friends, he finds his daydreaming toning down in intensity, only forcing its way to the forefront during late night mental quests. Peter is still skittish around him, not wanting to sit near Sirius whenever they hang out, but, then again, he supposes they’ve never liked each other much. They are only friends because of their shared devotion to James and the secret that keeps the four of their souls bound.

The atmosphere amongst the Marauders revamps further thanks to a satisfying prank in the Great Hall. The overbearing enthusiasm James and Frank show when Sirius volunteers the idea is enough to make him feel worthy of them again, at least for a couple of minutes. They find a way to make it seem like the levitating candles are dripping boiling wax onto the students' heads, until the wax lands on your skin and turns into fluffy cotton candy. The shrieks followed by pleased gasps are tremendously satisfying. Sirius feels a touch bad about the momentary panic felt by the teachers, but he spies Remus licking his hand of candy floss after everyone starts laughing and considers it a win. Even Dumbledore takes a bite. The Marauders even spend a snowy evening locked up in their dorm passing around a bottle of firewhisky Frank had procured through Merlin knows what chain of favours. Sirius tries to pretend everything is harmonious between himself and his friends and is surprised at how similar it is to everything being fine for real.

The whole school is in a relaxed mood now with coursework deadlines out of the way. All that is left is that week of classes where teachers come up with filler activities as they all collectively dream of Christmas dinner. He is looking forward to going home to the Potters, soak in the calm and secure love emitted by Effy and Monty. Hopefully get some love from Jamie as well. Who knows, maybe some forced time alone will help them destroy whatever invisible forces have come between them, including Sirius’s cowardice in confronting his best friend.

It is with these swirling thoughts that he enters Remus’s final class of term which is promising to be interesting. All desks have been cleared from the middle of the room and at its centre stands a large wardrobe with mirrors on its front doors. The class sees themselves walking up to it in the reflection.

“Good morning, everyone,” greets Professor Lupin, with a glint of mischief in his eyes. As if on cue, the contents start rattling violently, threatening to topple over the mirrored wardrobe. “Please come in. Any of you know what’s in the closet?” 

“Malfoy’s ass,” fake-whispers Sirius to James, who cracks up immediately. Remus tries his best not to follow as Malfoy turns beet red and sneers. More violent rattling from the wardrobe, however, shuts everyone up. Remus looks in his element, in control of the class and stronger than any dark creature that could ever invade his territory, and he is scorching hot. Sirius struggles to withhold a moan at the sight.

“Another guess? Yes, Mr Longbottom!”

“I’m guessing it’s a boggart, Sir,” answers Frank, in his usual drawl.

“That’s right. I’m aware it’s a third-year thing, but my predecessor left in his notes that your class missed the boggart lesson due to a mysterious flooding of the DADA classroom for which I won’t name any names but we all know who it was.”

Merlin, he loves this man.

“In short,” continues Remus, with an authority that makes Sirius weak in the knees, “a boggart is a shape-shifting creature that will assume the form of whatever most frightens the person who encounters it. The way against it is to transform the boggart into something you find ridiculous or silly, thereby cancelling out the scare factor for you. So, since it’s the last class before Christmas and I’m benevolent, let’s just all have some fun. Everyone in line please, and I need a volunteer. No? No volunteer? Then, Mr Malfoy, please step forward.”

Lucius goes with all the pureblood contempt he can muster. Sirius wouldn’t show any such hesitation if the man called him to his side, no, he would be so good. Remus teaches them the spell and steps closer to the pale boy. It makes Sirius squirm that with or without magic he could snap Malfoy in two. “So, what is it that we will see bursting through those doors?”

Malfoy’s face has started to turn purple. Eventually, as if having a lung ripped out, he gets out: “My girlfriend’s sister.”

The whole class remembers Bellatrix Black’s presence at Hogwarts, before she thankfully graduated two years prior. Even Narcissa, who usually looks like she’s just swallowed a live eel, struggles to contain a small smile.

“Very well, I have indeed had the pleasure of meeting the woman. Try to come up with something amusing, wand at the ready.”

Before Sirius can wonder when and how and _why_ Remus and Bellatrix have ever interacted, the doors slam open and there Bellatrix is in all her maleficent glory. Sirius reluctantly has to admit that she looks as hot as she does evil. He wonders if Lucius thinks the same. 

After a few tense minutes where his cousin prowls towards them as if to eat them alive, Lucius casts the spell. Suddenly, Bellatrix is wearing a baby pink dinosaur onesie and looking around like someone just threw a glass of milk at her face. The whole class erupts into hysterics, Remus included, but Lucius is obviously wondering whether Bellatrix will find out and castrate him for it. 

Before the laughter can die down, Remus quickly puts on an upbeat song on an old record player in the corner and the whole class excitedly gets into a proper line. One by one, they step in front of the boggart who transforms into their biggest fear. Sirius is proud of the wit of his classmates for what they come up with, and this is the most fun Gryffindors and Slytherins have probably ever had in a room together. Peter’s turn is the funniest of all because his boggart turns into Filch’s cat. He runs around the room a good few times with the cat in tow before he gathers the courage of confront it. If only their classmates knew it’s because of Peter’s animagus form, he’d be saved the humiliation of running away from a creature a tenth of his size. He eventually gets it to stop chasing him by transfiguring roller-skates onto its paws, causing the boggart to flail comically on the stone floor. 

And then it is James’s turn. With a large smile on his face after having given Peter a hug for reassurance, he eagerly steps in front of the boggart. For a long minute, it seems frozen in space and time. The shouts and giggles from the rest of the class gradually morph into swollen gasps and James’s smile is ripped off his face. 

It is Sirius. Or whatever is left of him. His corpse lies still on the ground, shirt open to reveal deep burn marks into his second layer of skin. His left arm is crooked at an impossible angle and hair is missing from some areas of his scalp. His eyes are open, staring vacantly at the ceiling, in a way typical of those who have been hit by an Avada Kedavra. It is only one step removed from the state of his body the night he had run away to the Potters'.

The real Sirius is standing to the side of the room, gaze flickering between his own mangled body, which is realer than him in an alternative universe, and his best friend. It feels like the whole world has frozen over and no one will ever have the strength to get it spinning again.

Until Remus throws himself in front of James, arms wide open, shielding him from the sight that has now been carved into both their brains. As if Sirius’s soul is ascending into heaven, the boggart levitates higher up into the room to scatter into night clouds framing a bright full moon. No one has time to process this before James is retching into his own mouth and running out of the classroom.

There are too many emotions pumping in his veins to feel any of them clearly. But his best friend needs him, and that is enough to unglue Sirius from the ground and get his feet running, clack clack, one at a time, faster now, towards James.

Without looking back, he follows the tail end of his friend’s robes into the Prefects’ Bathroom that is just next door. Luckily, just last week Frank had bartered for the password with a Hufflepuff prefect looking for some firewhisky. He quickly murmurs the password, heart in his throat, nearly blocking his airways, and slides inside.

®®®

When he steps in, it takes a moment to spot James amid the moist particles of white. He is sat loosely in a corner, back against the bricks, legs splayed out like a puppet with no strings. His gaze is vacant and Sirius guesses that he’s in the same place he himself goes to sometimes. But maybe it is possible to carve out a safe space for them to take shelter in, somewhere to hide his best friend for the night.

He kneels down in between the other boy’s legs, tips his chin up, and tightens his grip after too long without a response. He fancies he can see James travelling from there to here in his eyes.

“Jamie. Touch me, I’m okay.”

Those seem to be the magic words, because a puppeteer has taken violent control of his best friend’s limbs which start making contact with his frenetically, touching his face, his hair, his chest, his thighs, as if sculpting him into existence, into wellness. And poor Jamie, he never will be able to make Sirius into a healthy boy but it becomes undeniable he wants to try.

“You love me after all, huh?” croaks Sirius, overcome with emotion as the implications of James’s boggart finally dawn on him.

Glasses askew, his Jamie’s eyes meet his, confirming his presence. They are together in the Prefects' Bathroom. They are together in the Prefects' Bathroom and it may not be a mystical plane of post-coital existence but Merlin, it is enough.

“Padfoot. You need to stay safe. And happy. And happy, you get me?” James implores gruffly, an unknown edge to his voice. 

Suddenly the last few weeks become remarkably irrelevant. What does it matter if he doesn’t deserve James? If James doesn’t want him in the same way in return? If they had a bit of a failed fumble, if that moment of connection had been nothing but Sirius’s wishful thinking? What does any of it matter when they love each other this fucking much?

And before Sirius himself can do the same, James defiantly takes back full control of his limbs and brings him into his arms, his lips to his mouth. And maybe their mental union was all wishful thinking, but if the delusion is so similar to the real thing, can’t he just pretend while it lasts?

They become so detached from the world around them, they don’t hear the fourth presence entering the room (Myrtle, the third, is hiding in a corner pretending to be reading a book).

“Mr Potter?” calls out Remus, right before spotting them.

The two don’t jump apart, there is no need. What do their bodies imply that isn’t true?

When he sees them, Remus’s gaze softens. “I was hoping to find you boys here. Mr Potter, I hope it wasn’t overbearing of me to excuse you and Mr Black from the rest of your lessons this afternoon. I think it’s best you both go to your dorm and recover.”

Sirius has love shooting in two directions at once and it feels like there shouldn’t be an atom of him left from the blast. But James needs him now, needs him close, Sirius can tell, they are one after all, and Remus seems to understand this as well.

Somehow not disentangling themselves at all, they stand up and head towards the doorway where Remus watches them fondly. James doesn’t seem up for talking yet, so he takes control. “Thank you for looking after us.”

“Of course, you guys take care. And if you need to be excused from tomorrow’s classes as well, just let me know.”

As they leave Remus behind to tuck themselves into bed, Sirius does not realise he has confirmed the man’s erroneous suspicion: that his misplaced love for his professor has now found its rightful recipient.

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As if floating, James and Sirius make their way quietly to their dorm. When the doors shut, wordlessly, they change into their soft pyjama pants and climb under the cool bedsheets. It is only a matter of seconds before their chests are meeting, skin to skin, Sirius willing James’s brain to release all the oxytocin he needs. He combs his fingers into James’s thick hair, massaging his skull, breathing on the curve of his neck as the other boy tries to follow the rhythm of his lungs. It is easy for James to come out of the memory, when here Sirius is, beautifully unharmed, warm and alive.

Sensing that James has re-joined him in the present and isn’t likely to slip away again, Sirius makes to disentangle himself, just to look at him better, but like an octopus the other boy wraps him up even tighter, forming a seal between their bodies as if wanting them to fuse.

“I’m okay, Jamie. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Yeah, you are. You keep going away.”

Sirius had not expected to talk about this now. He had thought James’s emotions were focused on the alternate reality manifested by the boggart, but the events of the afternoon seem to have stirred all feelings to the surface.

“You’re right, Jamie. I’ll try harder to stay here with you always.”

“Why don’t we do this anymore?” James’s voice sounds fuller, closer to normal, and Sirius wonders if it’s a good thing neither of them has cried.

“Because we’re idiots, mate.”

“Hmm.”

They both drift, but to the land of dreams. The adrenaline deserts them and their bodies shut down now that danger has been evaded, minds unclear on whether it had been fight or flight. A proper debrief can wait. 

When Sirius wakes up again, it is the middle of the night and Frank and Peter can be heard quietly snoring in their own beds. The curtains have been drawn shut around them and Sirius is glad. To have James in his arms, so preciously trusting, is something that fills him with so much emotion he is scared of what could be showing on his face.

And yes, maybe they are not in love, but that has never mattered. Laying back against the body-warm sheets, reflecting on all the different kinds of love he hopes himself capable of, his gaze focuses on the moonlight shining through the gap in the curtains - in a wobbly heartbeat, his blood runs cold.

Remus.

He wonders if the others have connected the dots. Sirius does not need to look at a calendar to know that the three times Remus has been absent have been full moons. Sirius would’ve expected Remus’s own body, gruesomely unrealistic (or unrealistically gruesome) in its dysmorphic ugliness, to have been his boggart. How much did the wolf terrify him if it took precedence in his mind? Oh, but the scars, the body dysmorphia, the need for daily drugs from Madam Pomfrey.

Remus is a werewolf.

Remus is a werewolf, and Sirius does not love him any less.

Remus is a werewolf, and the part of Sirius who was raised by pureblood xenophobia is self-consciously proud that he does not love him any less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be something different, a James Potter POV special!


	15. A James Potter Interlude 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has left a comment so far in the story, especially those of you who keep coming back. It makes my heart skip a beat whenever I refresh and see that little (1). Very soon, my life is going to get very busy and I only have three more chapters written, although the fic will have around 30 in total. If I run out, I will try to get you longer chapters even if they won't be as frequent. I'm hoping to finish the fic by April, so hold me to that! Also, feel free to come find me on tumblr (asumikowrites). I'm going to put my all into finishing this if it's the last thing I do XD
> 
> Btw, it may make sense to reread the James bit in Chapter 1 to refresh your memory of Sirius's side of the story.

The first time James Potter sees Sirius Black, he is standing before the Hogwarts Express and is wary of the imposing family glaring at each other a few feet away. There is something strange about the boy, perhaps in the colourlessness of his eyes, that he can’t quite put his finger on. Just by seeing him from across the platform, little James can sense some seriously bad energy coming from his small body. When he chooses a random carriage for the journey, he does not expect the only person to have ever unsettled him to already be inside it. But his parents have inculcated good manners into him and, despite the lack of reaction he gets, he forces a smile onto his face and introduces himself. It seems that Sirius Black has also had good manners burnt into him, because he answers in a soft, solemn voice. They make small talk and the script is perfect, but his eyes are truly devoid of colour and James is still a bit creeped out. There is something missing in him, like a fantastic beast pretending to be a human boy. No one else joins their carriage - it is much smaller than the others and anyone who peers inside can sense the bad vibe emanating from it.

But James is a stubborn little boy and he is so well-liked by everyone: his classmates, his cousins, his neighbours, everyone wants to hang out with James Potter! And he realises that he is somewhat offended, because why does Sirius Black not care about him at all? They spend the next half hour staring out the window until James snaps.

“Are you sad or something?” he blurts out, annoyed at the boy’s lack of expression, lack of colour, lack of childhood.

“Yeah, I suppose,” is the polite response.

And he is not expecting that. Children are not ever truly sad. Yeah, sure, sometimes he and his friends cry or go into a strop or get jealous that their primary school girlfriend is holding hands with someone else, but no child is actually sad. That’s something adults feel in movies when they are being particularly useless at cleaning their flat.

“What are you sad about?”

This question makes Sirius Black’s face change and, despite not knowing how to read it, he is proud of the reaction.

“Well, maybe I am happy. I don’t know.” And then he has the audacity to shrug and go back to staring out the window.

James is not used to being ignored or being outsmarted by people his own age. He never participates in conversations he does not understand because his parents always take care to explain everything to him. He can't bear this. 

He stands up to go plop himself down right next to Sirius and throws an arm around his rigid shoulders. The boy startles as if slapped but soon relaxes back into apathy.

“Don’t be sad! Or unsure! We’re about to reach Hogwarts, the greatest adventure of our lives. That’s what everyone always says, anyway. I know I will be sorted into Gryffindor and we will get to live in a magical castle and become powerful wizards and there will barely be any adults around, we can get into so much trouble! I can’t wait to meet my roommates, it will be so cool to sleep in the same room as my friends, we will stay up all night every day, it’s gonna be amazing!” he rambles excitedly, glasses askew and a blistering smile from the anticipation.

Sirius Black gives him another indecipherable look but does not dislodge his arm. James keeps chatting for the rest of the train journey about all the adventures that await them at Hogwarts and, apart from gazing down at the arm around him a few times, James swears he sees the colourless boy crack a few smiles. His eyes reflect all colours of the rainbow at once when he does that.

It is not until years later, when he remembers Sirius angrily fighting with the Sorting Hat from afar, and then triumphantly looking at James when he is announced for Gryffindor, that he realises that train journey had been the most timeline-bending moment of their lives.

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James realises he is different from other boys when he turns fourteen. His best friend has started having sex with a pretty girl in their year, Marlene McKinnon, and it all sounds terribly frightening to him. Peter and Frank have also started boldly expressing interest in their classmates, and James can always see that a girl is pretty when they point it out - after all, he’d be lying if he said he has never gotten off picturing this one pair of sixth year girls who always walk arm in arm leaving a trail of ogling eyes. Thing is, he imagines them kissing each other, not him.

There is a lot of contraband pornography to be found in a boarding school, and it does give him lots of ideas. But whenever he fantasises about bodies or scenarios that turn him on, he is never featured in them. They are always people he sees in magazines or movies or people in the upper years he has never spoken to. The closest he comes to fantasise about people he actually knows is when he gets off to picturing the captain of his quidditch team, Olga Dietrich, being fucked by the Slytherin batter, Alec Mulciber. They are both very hot, in an intimidating kind of way, and they look beautiful together fighting fiercely in the stadium. 

Every time his friends talk about getting off or things that turn them on (bearing in mind it is disguised by twenty-seven tons of teenage boy bravado and toxic masculinity), they always seem to want someone for themselves. But having a crush on someone and thereforewanting to have sex with them is an alien concept to James. Sure, he has crushes and is attracted to quite a lot of people. He’s certain he has two or three crushes every month, there are so many beautiful people in the world! But he does not want to touch them. He is happy with them being hot… far away from him.

His best friend’s behaviour is the most mysterious of all. In between the sex he is having with Marlene and all these books he is reading about other people having sex, James starts worrying that Sirius will notice there is something wrong with James and leave him behind in the land of childhood. However, despite his list of sexual partners expanding as the months go on, Sirius sounds more interested in sharing his knowledge of gender and sexuality in theoretical ways– he talks about other people’s sexual desires and is endlessly fascinated by all the wondrous things people out in the world get up to. And, to an extent, so is James. He doesn’t have the same interest in sex that Sirius does, certainly not enough to actually go and have some sex, but it is nice knowing that Sirius would never judge him, even if he never wanted to have sex in his life. This is only one of the many reasons why he loves him.

It all takes a darker turn when James realises Sirius cannot stop having sex. The promiscuity is not the problem, but he does notice his best friend getting desensitised to it all. At first, he doesn’t know if it’s a bad thing that having sex is like eating a good slice of chocolate cake to Sirius, if that. To everyone else in their year and above, sex is the highest accomplishment of their young lives and they drag anyone into relieving the memory for at least three months after the deed. Sirius, on the other hand, whilst remembering the name of all his sexual partners and saying hello to them in the corridors if they are friendly, does not really seem to care about anyone but the Marauders. 

Why does this make him uneasy? He should be glad that his best friend does not want to spend every waking moment roping James into conversations that go over his head. He hates that feeling, after all. Then, incrementally, Lucius Malfoy starts picking their friendship as a target for his taunts. James is not bothered by the accusations of homosexuality - Sirius has already expressed an interest in boys and James doesn’t care enough to figure out if he shares it. Except that, subconsciously, his brain starts analysing what exactly Malfoy is picking up on.

He starts paying more attention to how tactile they are, how he doesn’t even think about it before bringing Sirius onto his lap, or wrestling with him, or sleeping in the same bed for comfort. James struggles to spend more than a few hours without thinking of the abuse Sirius suffered at the hands of his parents, especially in the period before he runs away from home, and how could he deny Sirius even the slightest comforting touch? He will one day get a computer of his own and realise he has been suffering from secondary PTSD as Sirius’s only confidant, but he will never tell the other boy that the nightmares have leaked over into his own brain. 

Ultimately, James wishes he could keep Sirius inside him. Snugly tucked into his body for safe travels through life. The night Sirius lands in his bedroom, bleeding and scalding, he feels a helplessness that to this day he struggles to shake off. Over the next two years, their physical relationship becomes even more pronounced. Sirius needs him more than ever, and James needs Sirius to be happy.

When he really thinks about it, James realises that he is the only person Sirius touches without sex as the primary motivator. He is not very affectionate with Frank and Peter, and Marlene is not a soft or sweet girl, apparently not even when naked. As much as James has come to crave having the other heartbeat against his own chest when they cuddle at night, he is glad that Sirius does not want to have sex with him. James has seen the polite detachment, the emotional apathy he has towards the people he sleeps with and is terrified that having sex with Sirius might shift him to that other disregarded category in his best friend’s mind. He has had the privilege of watching the empty shell of a colourless boy morph into a rainbow prism lighting up James's life, and he will do everything in his power to make the prism more and more iridescent as the years go by. Something silly like sex must not compromise this. 

As much as he wants to make Sirius happy in every way he can. As much as sometimes just being close does not feel like enough. As much as Sirius is the only person he has ever wanted to be intimate with and he does not know why.

But Sirius needs from him what no one else can give him: tenderness, love, mindless affection. And so James will uphold this final boundary at all costs for his best friend’s sake.

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When James and Sirius turn sixteen, there is a marked increase in both their sex drives. However, unlike Sirius, James has no outlet for it and nor does he desire one. He is resignedly horny all the time and does a good job at pretending his sexual desires are on par with those of his classmates. He has learnt the script of heteronormative sexuality, and whenever he talks about his own, he makes sure to steal sentences he has heard others utter. He is too used to being the golden boy in everything, he cannot stand the idea of not being excellent at all aspects of life, including this ridiculous one.

Eventually, his general sexual frustration makes him question whether his attraction to Sirius is simply misdirected. He needs to get off at least once a day, and he still does so to sexual fantasies featuring people he doesn’t know, but orgasms do not seem to quench the thirst which will not leave him even as he sleeps. The amount of sex dreams is embarrassing and they are only absent when his worry for Sirius’s nightmares exceeds all other feelings. So he wonders if it’s because of this lack of outlet for his lust that he has started cherishing their physical affection that much more. Cuddling with him or sitting so close they become one does not turn him on, but it gives him a giddy feeling in his belly. Or maybe it does turn him on, but instead of making him want sex (which he still only theoretically knows about), it just makes him want to touch Sirius more.

One day, in the showers after practice, he notices his best friend’s eyes on him. He is too scared to look – he does not have a script for this and he does not know how to give the best reaction. When curiosity wins out, he glances up into Sirius’s eyes and sees a reflected fear in them. But the incident does not merit thinking about. Even if Sirius did want to have sex with him, he will not let him. Sirius needs him as a friend more than he needs him as a fuckbuddy. Their relationship must not change in Sirius’s mind lest James become as expendable as everyone else.

®®®

It is the summer before final year and he is tired of masturbating. There are only so many hours in a day, and it feels like he would have to go half a dozen times just to feel satisfied for a few hours. And Sirius’s presence, which usually elicits nothing but a frantic love within him, is becoming problematic. He has never thought of fucking Sirius, and his best friend never features in his wanking material or in his sex dreams. But when James is awake, and his beautiful best friend is glued to his side in the summer heat, he finds himself wanting more. More of what, he does not know, but it may be remarkably similar to having their naked bodies fusing together. Keeping this arbitrary barrier up is becoming more and more difficult. He likes to think they share everything, and it makes James a bit sad to know that it cannot be true. Turns out children can be sad after all.

When Sirius propositions him, the first emotion is once again fear. What if having sex with Sirius demotes him to the same category as all the other meaningless people? And then he wonders if Sirius might be in love with him, which is somewhat less scary. It still worries him, because he has never thought of loving Sirius in that “let’s get married and have children" kind of way, but he definitely loves him in that “let’s never be apart” kind of way that just keeps growing and growing. But Sirius says that it is as simple as friendship + desire = sex, and James, for the first time in his life, succumbs to weakness. It suddenly seems absurd to refuse touch, albeit an unsettling kind of touch, from the person in the world he loves the most.

He makes one miscalculation, however. When Sirius kisses him, it feels like a missing puzzle piece finally slotting into his gut. Sirius is as close as he can physically be, it’s almost as good as if Sirius really were inside his body, safe and nurtured, and James is in heaven. For a few blissful minutes, he imagines a life where they can do this every day, where he can be so unequivocally reassured Sirius is warm and content and away from harm. But James has forgotten that this is leading to sex, what the fuck even is sex, he still hasn’t figured it out, and then Sirius’s mouth is on his cock and his brain short-circuits. It feels so good it’s painful, the kind of pain that your brain erases after the event. His body needs it, desperately – why does his body even need sex? – and his brain tries to grasp at why it should stop but it can’t. It is the best fucking thing he has physically felt, and simultaneously nothing in comparison to holding Sirius close to his chest.

Once he comes, he starts feeling a sticky sense of wrongness permeating his skin. He liked it, for fuck’s sake, he loved it, but he had made a vow. Sirius doesn’t need him like this, he has dozens of people queuing every single day for this but James is supposed to be more. Wants to be more.

So he pushes Sirius away, and he lacks the words, has never had the words, there is no script to copy from, and something fractures that day that may be irreparable. And it's all because of his one moment of weakness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked finally getting James's side of the story! It took me ages to figure out his characterisation, so I hope it's believable.


	16. I Broke Apart My Insides 1

By tacit agreement, Sirius and James decide to wait until they get home to the Potters’ to have a proper talk. In any case, the last few days of term are busy and exciting, and they are never more than a foot apart throughout. Their closeness seems to have settled something in Frank and Peter as well, and the four have a jolly good time staging a light-hearted prank during their last Transfiguration lesson. Professor McGonagall had loved it, really.

Sirius never returns to his bed. Every night, without a word, he changes into his pyjamas and crawls into James’s, who welcomes him with a hug and a kiss to the forehead. Neither boy is ready to question the new pattern, although this one feels a lot closer to how things used to be. This is also the longest Sirius goes without checking the map; he passes Remus in the corridors a couple of times and they wave to each other with blinding smiles. It's like some new dimension has opened up in their relationship, but he cannot tell whether it’s one he will like. His pursuit of Remus’s love will have to wait until after Christmas, and he is surprised by how rational he feels about it. His feelings are not going anywhere and their new-found authenticity brings him peace.

As for his love for his best friend, their conversation is pending, but they allow themselves a fun train journey back playing Exploding Snap and a few hours of absorbing Fleamont and Euphemia’s calm, loving presence. It is, in fact, not until they wake up on the first morning of their Christmas holidays, the white landscape outside pushing them closer towards each other’ warmth, cocooned in the same bed where everything fractured, that they resign themselves to the conversation.

“Hey Sirius?” asks James, sounding fuzzy, hand combing into shiny black hair.

“Mmh yeah?” he replies, from where his head is smushed against his best friend’s cotton t-shirt. He smells amazing.

“This is how it should be, isn’t it?” comes the matter-of-fact question.

And pre-Remus Sirius might have just replied in the affirmative and let it lie. Fermenting, rotting. But this most recent version of Sirius Black wants nice things, and loving James is one of the nicest things of all. It merits an equal amount of effort to achieve.

“What do you mean, Jamie? Because last time we thought we were on the same page everything went to shit.”

He feels James pull him up by the arms, and they end up reclining against the headboard on their sides, mirroring each other.

“Why don’t you start by telling me what you want?” continues Sirius. “Then I can tell you if I want any of that and we can figure out what’s best. So long as it’s not whatever the fuck has been going on for the past four months.”

“Fuck no, enough of that. Well, erm…” trails off James, and Sirius could swear he feels their skin temperatures surging, “you promise you won’t laugh?”

“I would never.” Sirius hopes that James’s embarrassment is prefacing a request so exhaustingly needy it will overshadow all of his own greediness.

“I essentially want what we’ve been doing for the past week. But with more touching. And kissing, maybe. And, you know, us being best friends as usual.”

“Yes, yes, yes, and yes! Why didn’t you just say?” exclaims Sirius, elatedly peppering kisses across James’s face until he is weakly swatted away.

“Because you wanted sex.” And this is said in such a small voice Sirius almost doesn’t hear it. And then he feels his heart breaking because, once again, he had let his selfishness corrode the most important relationship in his life.

“Jamie, you listen carefully okay?” he implores, framing James’s face in both his hands. “We do not need to have sex to have all the other things. I don’t need it, I really don’t. We can have cuddles and kisses and I promise I will never touch you like that again. If I ever do anything to make you uncomfortable, you must tell me, got it?”

But then he watches James grab both his arms and throw them around himself, slotting their bodies so, so perfectly together further into the bedsheets, and Sirius is hard because of fucking course he is, but James looks nothing but determined.

“It’s not so much that I don’t want to have sex. If I had to choose anyone in the world to have sex with, it would be you. And no, before you ask, I don’t think I’m asexual.” Sirius can do nothing but listen, awed at how long-awaited this moment has been. “I’ve been trying to figure it out, and I think I only really want to have sex with people I already love. Not that I need to be in love with someone, I don’t think I’m in love with you, whatever that means, but I don’t really want to be that close to someone unless they are both extremely gorgeous and extremely good friends of mine.”

The relief is more physical than plunging into a warm bath. “And do I tick those two boxes?”

“Indeed you do.”

“So what went wrong last time?” Sirius wills himself to ask. This misunderstanding between them had to be fully exorcised. 

“I don’t know, I mean, I want to get off, and part of me wants to get off with you. It feels weird that we don’t do that, you know? When it sounds like it would be so nice. But when you started sucking me off, it just felt kind of clinical? Like you were trying to get me to come and blowjobs are how I imagine other people have sex with people they don’t love, and I didn’t like that. I didn’t like the idea that you were treating me like everyone else you hook up with.”

Sirius’s heart splinters some more. Because whilst it is true that they hadn’t been on that same plane of existence, even though James’s lived experience of that moment is radically different from his own, James had wanted to be there with him. 

“That’s not at all how I wanted to make you feel. It was really emotional for me, actually. I was overflowing with love for you and for us and I thought you were right there with me. Blowjobs don’t have to be this transaction. But we also never have to do them again, or at least not so long as you see them that way. We can set our own rules, you know? We can just do whatever we want to do. Sex is for everyone, and we can find something just for us. I want to be closer to you, and sex is just one of the many ways we can achieve that.”

Instead of replying, James simply squeezes Sirius into himself even harder, so hard he seems to want him to penetrate his ribcage, and presses a searing kiss to his best friend’s lips. Neither feels the need to repeat that this does not imply romantic love because they are finally on the same wavelength.

That afternoon, James Potter discovers that frotting whilst kissing Sirius Black is his new favourite thing in the world. 

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When they both return to Hogwarts, a few days before classes start again, the school is bustling with a schedule of social activities for those who have already returned. They have a new skip in their step and their friends are quite confused. They spend the first couple of days drinking mulled wine, messing around on their brooms, and fielding questions from well-meaning classmates about whether they are dating. On one memorable occasion, someone asks if they can watch. Peter and Frank haven’t made any particular remarks at seeing them sleep in the same bed, but at least it can be said that Frank is the same easy-going friend they’ve always had. There is a new quietness to Peter when he notices the switch is permanent, one that is barely distinguishable from his usual shyness, except that it has never been directed towards James. Sirius cannot bear to contemplate the possibility that he and Peter are as good as strangers now. He still loved him, in his own way, even if he'd been trying to conceal it from himself. 

Even Marex, bumping into Sirius on their way to breakfast, asks if James is the person he has feelings for. For lack of a short-hand for what everything means, he simply says: “No, but we are part of each other. I am still working on the person I am in love with and probably will be for a very long time.”

When Marex merely smiles and wishes him good luck, Sirius is left with a sense of validation that follows him throughout the day.

He will continue to hook up with Marlene, because the new intimacy with James is not a replacement for any of the other things he needs in his life. If there’s one thing they have both agreed on, is that their relationship should exist as if in a vacuum and anything external is of no consequence to it.

However, there are still many question marks floating in Sirius’s head. His broad understanding of relationships had been that people either wanted sex, or they mistakenly thought they wanted sex but actually wanted intimacy. People also needed non-sexual affection and validation, both internal and external. And, despite his own attempts at self-sabotage, Sirius is impossibly grateful for having a good shot at all of the above. He will try every day to be deserving of what his friends have deemed him worthy of.

So why the fuck is it still not enough? Why is there still a dark emptiness lurking inside him, always changing location in his body, not making its shape known? What awful things does Sirius want from Remus that nobody else can give him?

Doesn't he want nice things?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Animagus Story Arc 🐭

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a kudo to let others know if you think it’s worth a try =-) 
> 
> All comments are appreciated. You can also find me on Tumblr if you want to talk about BDD/anxiety or just have a friendly chat: https://asumikowrites.tumblr.com  
> I don't have a beta, so please feel free to point out any mistakes.


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